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BLIND    MICE 
C.   KAY  SCOTT 


BLIND    MICE 

BY 

C.  KAY   SCOTT 


NEW  ^CSJr  YORK 
GEORGE   H.   DORAN   COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT,  1921, 
BY  GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 


PRINTED  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES  OF  AMERICA 


To 
OTTO   FREDERIC  THEIS 

FRIEND  OF  THIS   BOOK. 
AND    OF    ITS    AUTHOR 


2138041  * 


BLIND  MICE 


The  suburban  train  was.  crowded  and  the  stops  were  fre- 
quent. 

Two  young  men,  who  had  secured  seats  near  the  end  of 
their  car,  were  occupied,  one  in  reading  an  evening  paper 
and  the  other  in  making  some  calculations  in  a  note  book. 
The  one  reading  stopped  often  to  quote  a  news  item  to  his 
companion,  or  to  make  some  remark.  This  was  John  Winter. 
He  was  rather  short  and  well  nourished,  one  of  the  men  who 
indicate  that  in  later  years  they  will  grow  stout.  He  had 
very  blue  eyes  and  fair  hair  and  his  clear  skin  was  smoothly 
shaven.  His  cheeks  were  pink  and  white,  his  lips  very  red. 
His  clothing,  which  was  of  the  latest  cut,  was  dark  blue.  He 
wore,  as  was  his  invariable  custom,  a  necktie  the  exact  color 
of  his  eyes,  which  was  for  him  a  most  becoming  combination. 
With  this  exception,  however,  his  dress  showed  a  noticeable 
lack  of  care.  He  had  a  somewhat  boisterous  and  affectionate 
manner,  and  a  rather  loud  voice.  When  excited  or  interested 
he  had  a  boyish  way  of  removing  his  hat  and  running  his 
fingers  through  his  hair. 

His  friend,  James  Sprague,  did  not  seem  to  mind  John's  in- 
terruptions and  replied  good  naturedly.  Both  appeared  in 
the  best  of  spirits  and  the  good  understanding  between  them 
was  evident. 

Sprague  was  tall  and  slender,  with  large  hands  and  feet. 
An  even  color  glowed  through  his  darkly  tinted  skin.  He 
had  deep  set  brown  eyes.  The  other  features  were  large :  the 
mouth  straight.  A  brown  moustache,  closely  cut  as  was  his 
dark  hair,  shaded  his  heavy  upper  lip.  He  wore  fastidiously 

9 


10  BLIND    MICE 

selected  clothing  that  displayed  an  exaggeratedly  quiet  taste; 
the  cravat  chosen  in  stripes  too  minute  for  good  general  ef- 
fect, and  the  cuffs,  shoes,  and  other  details  of  attire  im- 
maculate and  suggestive  of  extreme  thought  for  appearance. 
Sprague's  voice  was  low  pitched  and  subdued.  He  spoke 
slowly  and  smiled  occasionally  in  an  extraordinarily  attractive 
manner. 

It  was  raining.  At  one  of  the  stations  a  pretty  girl  entered 
the  car,  her  mackintosh  and  umbrella  dripping.  John  Winter, 
although  farthest  from  the  aisle,  jumped  quickly  to  his  feet 
to  offer  her  his  place.  Sprague  moved  next  to  the  window,  to 
allow  her  to  sit  down  without  passing  him,  and  at  once  re- 
sumed his  figuring.  Winter  hung  to  a  strap  and  continued 
the  reading  of  his  paper  and  his  frequent  remarks  to  his 
friend,  glancing  now  and  then  at  the  girl's  profile  which  was 
particularly  pleasing.  She  looked  demurely  at  her  gloves, 
smiling  slightly  at  some  of  John's  conspicuously  uttered  sallies 
to  Jim.  After  three  stations  were  passed  she  arose,  and,  with 
a  hasty  glance  at  the  pleasant  boyish  face  of  the  young  man 
standing,  left  the  car.  Winter's  gaze  followed  her  to  the  door. 

"Why  don't  you  sit  down,  John?"  asked  Sprague  without 
lifting  his  eyes  from  his  work.  Winter  sat  down  rather  sud- 
denly. "We  ought  to  put  cement  into  that  cellar  wall  of 
Rowland's  house,"  Sprague  continued.  "I  told  him  so  to- 
day and  it  was  included  in  the  estimates." 

"I  didn't  know  he  came  to  the  office,"  returned  Winter. 
"When  was  he  there?" 

"Just  before  you  got  back  from  lunch,"  answered  his  com- 
panion. 

"I  was  looking  at  some  designs  for  art  tiles,"  explained 
John,  "and  so  I  was  late.  I  wanted  to  see  Rowland  badly. 
Did  he  say  anything  about  my  decoration  scheme  for  the  in- 
terior?" 

"I  showed  it  to  him,"  responded  Sprague,  "but  he  said  he 
couldn't  afford  it." 

"I'm  sorry  we  ever  touched  his  rotten  house!"  exclaimed 
Winter.  "He  has  no  more  taste  than  a  billy  goat." 

J'He's  coming  in  again  tomorrow."  Sprague  smiled  a  little. 
"So  you  can  talk  with  him  yourself."  Then,  after  a  pause, 


BLIND    MICE  11 

*'Lucy  is  expecting  her  mother,  you  said.  When  does  she 
get  here?" 

"Tomorrow,"  replied  John  with  a  grimace,  taking  up  his 
paper  again. 

Jim  resumed  his  figuring. 

"Here,  wake  up,"  he  said  a  few  minutes  later,  glancing  out 
of  the  window  as  the  train  slowed  down  at  a  small  station. 
"This  is  Rosedene.  Suppose  we  get  off  here."  And  the  two 
alighted  from  the  car. 

When  they  turned  into  the  street  where  John  lived  the 
rain  had  ceased  falling,  and  they  saw  Mrs.  Winter  and  Dim- 
mie  waiting  at  the  gate  in  front  of  the  pretty  yard. 

Lucy  Winter's  smile  was  of  the  slow  but  warming  kind. 
Her  child's  was  also  warm,  but  quicker,  like  his  father's.  As 
Lucy  kissed  John,  Dimmie  (who  was  named  for  Sprague, 
"Jimmie"  having  been  corrected  into  "Dimmie"  by  the  young 
gentleman  himself  at  a  fabulously  tender  age),  attacked  Jim 
with  such  demonstrations  of  esteem  as  would  have  discon- 
certed a  less  robust  and  self-contained  individual. 

Lucy  was  of  medium  size,  with  hands  and  feet  not  too 
small.  She  had  a  rather  generous  figure,  the  waist  large  and 
bosom  low.  Her  hair,  fine  in  texture  and  not  abundant,  was 
of  a  nondescript  shade  of  brown,  and  was  arranged  low  over 
her  ears.  Her  nose  was  extremely  shapely,  her  mouth  large, 
but  so  well  cut  as  to  be  beautiful.  Her  grey  eyes  had  a  won- 
derful clarity  and  frankness  of  gaze.  She  could  not  be  called 
pretty,  partly  because  the  impression  of  her  personality  sug- 
gested too  much  seriousness,  and  partly  because  the  line  from 
her  ear  to  her  chin  was  too  long.  She  wore  a  simple  house 
dress  of  wash  goods.  The  gingham  sleeve  apron,  which  she 
had  taken  off  before  going  to  the  front  gate,  hung  over  one 
arm.  While  not  over  strong  physically  Lucy  suggested  an 
atmosphere  of  wholesomeness.  And  she  was  direct,  almost 
abrupt,  in  speech. 

Dimmie  was  a  slim  child  of  four  with  features  and  com- 
plexion like  John's,  but  he  had  his  mother's  fine  grey  eyes. 
Dressed  in  clean  white  blouse  and  breeches,  white  shoes  and 
socks,  his  yellow  hair  bobbed  in  Dutch  fashion,  he  made  a  pic- 
ture of  health  and  buoyancy. 


12  BLIND    MICE 

"What  a  glorious  rain,  Lucy."  John  chuckled  exuberantly. 
"The  train  went  through  it  like  a  ship  in  a  storm." 

"Did  it?"  She  smiled,  feeling  his  coat  sleeve  to  see  if  it 
was  damp.  "Are  your  feet  wet,  John?  And  you  too,  Jim?" 
shaking  hands  warmly  with  Sprague. 

"No,"  they  both  answered.  "Just  like  chorus  girls,"  John 
added,  at  which  they  all  laughed. 

"Don't  step  in  the  water,  dear,"  Lucy  cautioned  Dimmie  as 
they  turned  to  go  into'  the  house. 

The  first  thing  Jim  did,  after  hanging  his  hat  and  rain  coat 
in  the  hall,  was  to  offer  to  help  put  the  dinner  on,  as  this  was 
his  usual  task  on  such  occasions. 

"I  don't  need  any  help,"  said  Lucy  briskly,  leading  him 
back  into  the  dining  room.  "You  two  boys  fix  yourselves 
some  near  cocktails  while  I  finish.  It'll  only  take  me  a  minute. 
You  know  where  the  ingredients  are,  Jim." 

Jim  mixed  the  cocktails,  going  out  in  the  kitchen  to  the  re- 
frigerator for  ice,  and  swearing  when  he  could  not  find  the 
shaker. 

"Where  is  it,  Lucy?"  he  asked. 

"Why  don't  you  look  for  it?" 

"I  have,"  he  protested. 

"Here  it  is."  She  brought  it  from  the  pantry  where  he 
had  just  been.  "If  it  had  been  a  snake  it  would  have  bitten 
you." 

"Say,  but  that  soup  smells  good,"  he  exclaimed  as  she  re- 
moved a  cover  and  placed  a  'tureen  on  the  kitchen  table. 
"What  kind  of  soup  is  it?" 

"Wait  and  see,"  she  replied.  "You  go  and  fix  that  cock- 
tail or  the  soup  will  get  cold — and  call  John." 

Jim  obeyed.  John  came  in  from  the  living  room,  where  he 
had  been  playing  "The  Evening  Star"  from  Tannhauser  on 
the  piano,  with  many  mistakes  in  the  execution,  and  Lucy  put 
the  soup  on. 

"Sit  down,"  she  commanded.  "You  know  your  place,  Jim. 
Where's  Dimmie?" 

"I'll  get  him,"  offered  Jim,  going  out  through  the  kitchen. 
"There's  some  cocktail  left  for  you,"  he  called  back. 


BLIND    MICE  13 

Lucy  took  up  the  glass  and  tasted  its  contents  gingerly.  "I 
don't  like  it,"  she  objected  to  John,  making  a  face. 

"Oh,  women  usually  don't  like  dry  cocktails,"  he  laughed. 
"That's  a  Martini.  We  make  Manhattans  for  the  ladies. 
But  it's  almost  as  good  as  a  real  one.  Old  Jim's  supply  of 
alcohol  and  synthetic  flavors  won't  last  much  longer  though." 

Jim  came  in  with  Dimmie,  and  dinner  was  begun. 

"I've  been  thinking  a  long  time,"  Jim  looked  alternately  at 
Lucy  and  John  as  he  spoke,  "that  we  ought  to  combine  with 
some  such  firm  as  Layard's  occasionally  so  that  we  can  swing 
bigger  things.  They  are  close  to  all  the  supply  companies." 

"Have  some  more  soup,"  urged  Lucy. 

"Believe  I  will."  Jim  handed  her  his  soup  plate.  "It's  as 
good  as  I  suspected.  What  kind  of  soup  is  it  anyway?" 

"If  you  can't  tell  after  eating  it,  I  think  its  name  would  be 
wasted  on  you,"  said  Lucy,  laughing. 

"Now  that  contract  for  the  new  incinerator,"  Jim  continued 
unrufHed,  "might  just  as  well  have  come  our  way.  In  fact 
it  was  offered  to  me,  but  we  couldn't  consider  it  because  we 
weren't  in  touch  with  people  handling  the  materials,  and 
hadn't  capital  to  tackle  it  alone." 

"Do  you  mean  going  into  partnership  with  Layard's?"  in- 
quired Lucy,  cutting  up  Dimmie's  meat  for  him. 

"Oh,  no."  Jim  smiled.  "We're  too  small  fry  for  that. 
Just  an  understanding,  so  we  can  have  more  leeway,  agree- 
ing of  course  to  let  them  supply  us  in  our  other  projects." 

"I  see,"  Lucy  nodded.  "Aren't  you  hungry,  dear?"  she 
asked  John.  "You  didn't  finish  your  soup." 

"Oh,  I'm  all  right,"  John  assured  her.  "I  was  thinking 
out  a  color  combination  for  Rowland's  house.  I  don't  like 
the  shade  of  the  slate  roof  he  wants.  It  doesn't  go  well  with 
Milwaukee  brick." 

"Well,  eat  your  dinner,  dearie.  You'll  have  a  headache  if 
you  don't." 

John  began  to  eat  with  appetite. 

"What  was  that  you  were  spouting  about?"  he  asked  Jim. 

"The  incinerator,"  repeated  his  friend.  "I  want  to  get 
hold  of  such  things.  Otherwise  we  will  have  to  stick  to  small 


14  BLIND    MICE 

dwellings,  and  there's  very  little  in  them  under  present  condi- 
tions, except  of  course  on  a  large  scale." 

"Incinerator!"  John  ran  his  fingers  through  his  hair. 
"What  a  dream  for  an  architect!  I  suppose  you'd  decorate 
it  with  conventionalized  garbage  cans." 

"Well,"  insisted  Jim,  "there's  money  in  such  things,  and 
that's  what  we're  after." 

"It  sure  is,"  Lucy  put  in.  Then,  turning  to  Dimmie,  "Don't 
eat  with  your  knife,  baby.  That's  not  nice.  Let  mother  show 
you.  Hold  your  fork  so.  That's  right." 

"Money's  all  right,  but  it's  not  everything!"  exclaimed  John. 
"An  artist  has  dreams  that  are  more  than  meat  and  raiment. 
But  it's  some  job  to  achieve  anything  artistic  in  this  country!" 

"Or  in  any  other  country,"  amended  Jim. 

"Well,  ours  is  the  limit,"  John  retorted.  "That's  the  reason 
I  wanted  to  go  to  Europe — to  drink  in  an  atmosphere.  To 
live  and  study  where  the  almighty  dollar  isn't  supreme!  I've 
tried  to  hang  on  to  ideals,  but  grubbing  for  bread  first  drags 
you  down  to  designing  ugly  cottages  for  fools  and  ends  by 
offering  you  an  incinerator.  We'll  probably  wind  up  on  pack- 
ing houses  and  the  city  dump  yard." 

Jim  laughed. 

"Let's  get  hold  of  the  money,  and  then  you  can  swim  in 
early  Tuscan  and  post-impressionism  and  dabble  in  water 
colors  all  you  want  to." 

"Yes,  money  means  opportunity  to  do  the  things  we  want 
to — for  us  and  for  Dimmie,"  Lucy  added  more  seriously. 

"You  two  will  have  us  running  a  contracting  and  jobbing 
concern  before  long,  instead  of  an  architect's  studio." 

"I'd  run  a  fertilizer  plant  if  there  was  money  in  it,"  de- 
clared Jim. 

"Well  I  wouldn't,  and  I  don't  think  my  boy  would  want  ad- 
vantages purchased  at  the  cost  of  his  father's  soul.  Would 
you,  son  ?"  John  rumpled  Dimmie's  hair. 

"I  want  a  balloon,"  remarked  Dimmie. 

"Heredity,"  chuckled  Jim,  and  Lucy  laughed. 

"You're  all  atavism,"  John  retorted. 

"What's  atavizzen?"  queried  Dimmie. 

"Ask  your  uncle  Jim,  son." 


BLIND    MICE  15 

Dimmie  looked  at  Jim  who  said,  "I'll  bring  you  some  next 
time  I  come  out,  Dimmie." 

"By  the  way,  Lucy,"  resumed  John,  "that  reminds  me. 
What  train  does  your  mother  come  on  tomorrow?" 

"On  the  seven  o'clock,  I  think."  Lucy  rose  and  took  a  let- 
ter from  a  drawer  in  the  table  by  the  kitchen  door.  "Seven 
ten  C.  and  W.,"  she  corrected,  consulting  the  letter. 

"Morning  or  evening?" 

"She  didn't  say."  Lucy  glanced  again  through  the  letter. 
"We'll  have  to  get  a  time  table." 

"Now  isn't  that  just  like  a  woman?"  John  looked  at  Lucy 
teasingly. 

"It's  the  morning  train,"  Jim  informed  them.  "There's  no 
through  evening  train  on  the  C.  and  W.  at  seven  ten  and 
there  is  in  the  morning." 

"By  George,  you  must  be  taking  Professor  Forgetproof's 
correspondence  course  for  strengthening  the  memory,  Jim. 
You  certainly  do  carry  around  a  bunch  of  useless  facts  in 
your  head." 

"This  one  wasn't,"  said  Lucy  smiling. 

"I  thought  it  wasn't  till  night."  John  sighed  and  lighted  a 
cigarette. 

"He  wanted  all  day  to  talk  Rowland  into  a  Byzantine  dec- 
oration scheme  for  his  interior,"  Jim  explained  to  Lucy,  get- 
ting out  his  pipe  meanwhile. 

"That's  right,"  admitted  John,  blowing  smoke  rings  and 
poking  his  finger  through  them. 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  Jim's  pipe  seemed  to  be  out 
of  order. 

"I  want  to  get  down,"  announced  Dimmie,  and  a  slight  ten- 
sion was  broken. 

"Let  mother  untie  your  bib  first,  dear.  Where  are  you  go- 
ing, baby?" 

"I'm  goin'  to  sit  in  Uncle  Jim's  lap." 

"Why  Uncle  Jim  hasn't  had  his  coffee  yet,  son." 

"Come  on,  kid,"  invited  Jim,  moving  his  chair  sidewise  to 
the  table.  "I  can  attend  to  coffee  and  you  too." 

"There's  no  use  getting  self  conscious  about  this  matter  of 


16  BLIND    MICE 

your  mother,  Lucy."  John  returned  to  the  unwelcome  sub- 
ject. "We've  no  desire  to  keep  anything  from  Jim." 

"Of  coure  not/'  Lucy  agreed  quickly. 

"This  is  our  last  evening  alone,  Jim."  John  ran  his  fingers 
through  his  hair.  "It's  all  right  for  Lucy's  mother  to  for- 
give me,  I  suppose,  but  as  my  chief  crime  seems  to  have  been 
marrying  her  daughter,  I'm  not  so  grateful  as  she  probably 
imagines." 

"She  felt  unkindly  toward  me  long  before  I  ever  met  you, 
John,"  Lucy  said  seriously,  looking  at  Dimmie. 

"But  more  since,"  John  insisted. 

"To  be  sufficient  for  yourselves  is  the  greatest  crime  toward 
other  people,"  remarked  Jim,  straightening  Dimmie's  collar. 
"Believe  it's  begun  to  rain  again,"  he  added,  glancing  toward 
the  window. 

"You'll  be  surprised  when  you  see  mother,"  averred  Lucy 
irrelevantly. 

Jim  laughed.  . 

"I  shouldn't  feel  much  anxiety  about  anybody  kin  to  Lucy." 

"Joking  aside,"  interrupted  John,  "to  be  blamed  as  I  was 
has  been  a  pretty  painful  experience." 

Lucy  smiled  at  him. 

"I  don't  think  anybody  was  to  blame,"  she  decided. 

"You  never  do,  Lucy,"  returned  Jim. 

"That's  a  fact,"  John  complained.  "Now  I  think  there  are 
times  when  it's  up  to  a  man's  self-respect  to  blame  the  other 
fellow  a  little." 

Jim  puffed  at  his  pipe,  staring  at  the  ceiling. 

"Well,  John,  if  Lucy  can  overlook  things  you  ought  to  be 
able  to.  She's  the  one  who  has  been  up  against  it.  You 
shouldn't  kick." 

"Yes,  he  should,  Jim,"  put  in  Lucy  hastily.  "Anybody  but 
John  would  feel  resentment  still." 

John  lighted  another  cigarette. 

"Oh,  that's  nothing,  Lucy.  I  couldn't  very  well  feel  hard 
toward  anyone  who  seems  as  cut  up  as  your  mother  in — in 
her  present  situation." 

"Plenty  of  people  could,"  insisted  Lucy. 


BLIND    MICE  17 

"I  guess  she  resented  your  father's  having  been  here,"  said 
John,  laughing  uncomfortably. 

"Well,  Papa  has  done  so  much  for  me  that  nothing  can 
make  me  turn  against  him,"  declared  Lucy. 

John  rumpled  his  hair  again. 

"Hang  it  all,  you  can't  blame  me  for  not  being  crazy  to 
have  a  stranger  in  the  house  indefinitely,  no  matter  how  nice 
she  might  prove  to  be  !" 

"Especially  one  who  neglected  to  seek  your  acquaintance 
until  she  was  in  trouble,"  put  in  Lucy  with  an  unaccustomed 
approach  to  bitterness. 

Jim  knocked  the  ashes  from  his  pipe. 

"I  don't  blame  you  for  feeling  a  little  sore  toward  your 
mother,  Lucy,"  he  remarked. 

"I  try  not  to,"  said  Lucy  impatiently,  "but " 

Jim  smiled. 

"If  it  had  been  anyone  else  but  John,  eh?" 

"If  it  had  been  anyone  else  but  John,"  she  repeated;  "ex- 
actly." 

"He's  an  honor  to  the  family,"  Jim  declared,  reaching  over 
and  pulling  John's  rebellious  hair. 

"He  is."    Lucy  was  emphatic. 

John  arose  and  went  around  the  table  to  Lucy. 

"You're  a  good  kid,  Lucy,"  he  said,  leaning  down  and  kiss- 
ing her  forehead. 

She  stood  up  and  smoothed  his  rumpled  hair. 

"Where's  Dimmie  gone  to?"  she  asked. 

"Here  I  am,  Mamma,"  Dimmie  called  from  the  floor  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  table. 

"Come  and  help  Mother  clear  off  the  table,  Sonny." 

"I'll  help  too,"  offered  Jim. 

"You  can  wipe  the  dishes,"  she  conceded. 


II 

It  was  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning. 

In  the  dining  room  of  the  Winter  home  Lucy  sat  at  the 
breakfast  table  with  Jim  who  had  remained  at  Rosedene  over- 
night. John  had  gone  to  catch  the  early  suburban  train  in 
order  to  bring  Lucy's  mother  from  the  station.  Dimmie  was 
out  under  an  old  elm  tree  in  the  yard,  swinging.  Lucy  had 
been  up  since  half  past  five,  had  served  John's  breakfast  at 
six,  and  disposed  of  Dimmie's  bath  and  appetite,  preparing  a 
second  meal  for  herself  and  Jim.  She  now  contemplated  the 
disheveled  table. 

"I  must  get  cleaned  up  before  they  come !"  She  rose  and 
settled  her  apron  more  precisely,  then  began  to  clear  away 
the  dishes  and  brush  the  crumbs  from  the  cloth. 

Jim  took  out  his  pipe  and  filled  it. 

"Maybe  your  mother  won't  have  had  breakfast,"  he  said. 

Lucy  shook  her  head. 

"John  is  going  to  take  her  some  place  in  town.  It  would 
make  it  too  late  for  her  to  wait  until  she  got  out  here." 

Jim  rose  to  help  with  the  remaining  plates. 

"You  go  on  with  something  else,"  he  insisted.  "I  can  finish 
these  things  in  a  jiffy." 

"No,  you  can't!"  Lucy  motioned  him  away.  "You  must 
go  on  with  the  work  you  brought  in  the  portfolio.  John  said 
he  found  you  hard  at  it  when  he  went  after  you  yesterday 
evening." 

"All  right,  Lucy.  Just  as  you  say.  I'm  making  some  cal- 
culations on  our  new  contract."  Jim  moved  toward  the  next 
room. 

"I  won't  disturb  you  in  there  but  you'd  better  shut  Dim- 
mie out,"  Lucy  called  after  him. 

"I'm  nearly  through  with  the  estimates."  Jim  turned  in  the 

18 


BLIND   MICE  19 

doorway.  Lucy  had  stopped  her  work  and  was  gazing  out  the 
window  with  an  abstraction  unusual  to  her. 

"You  don't  see  them?" 

Lucy  shook  her  head,  her  profile  half  averted. 

"Lucy — you're  not  crying?"  Jim's  voice  showed  astonish- 
ment and  more  feeling  than  he  commonly  expressed.  He 
had  never  before  seen  Lucy  in  tears. 

She  faced  him,  smiling  uncertainly. 

"Jim,  I  try  so  hard  to  be  just  to  everybody!"  she  explained 
irrelevantly. 

"Nothing  infuriates  people  like  receiving  justice,  Lucy." 

She  glanced  at  him  appreciatively. 

"You  can  put  things  into  words,  Jim.  When  I  was  a  little 
girl  I  used  to  think  and  think,  trying  to  explain  things  to  my- 
self." Her  voice  trailed  off.  "I  know  Mamma'll  want  me  to 
blame  Papa,  Jim,  and  I  can't." 

An  automobile  horn  was  heard  outside  and  the  sound  of  a 
machine  stopping.  Lucy  started. 

"Hello !"  Jim  turned  to  face  Dimmie  who  ran  into  the 
room  crying,  "They're  here !  They're  here !"  and  scurried  out 
again. 

Lucy  seemed  bewildered. 

"Why  the  train  never  gets  to  Rosedene  at  this  hour !" 

Jim  smiled  encouragingly. 

"Don't  borrow  trouble,  Lucy,"  he  said.  "John's  brought 
your  mother  out  in  a  machine.  They  can't  have  made  a  very 
bad  impression  on  each  other." 

Lucy  started  for  the  hall  but  hesitated.  There  was  the 
sound  of  a  door  opening  and  of  several  footsteps. 

"Come  right  in,  Nannie,"  John's  voice  was  heard  saying, 
and  then,  in  direction  to  the  chauffeur,  "put  the  things  in- 
side." In  an  instant  John  and  Lucy's  mother  entered  the  din- 
ing room  followed  by  Dimmie  who  was  unnoticed  and  look- 
ing rather  rueful. 

The  new  arrival,  Mrs.  Merwent,  was  petite,  with  quick  un- 
decided gestures.  While  giving  an  impression  of  prettiness 
and  studied  femininity,  her  features,  with  the  exception  of 
her  eyes,  were  not  remarkable.  These  eyes  were  the  color 
of  Lucy's  and  unusually  prominent.  She  was  attired  Nin  a 


20 

faultless  traveling  costume  of  a  cut  and  shade  too  youthful 
for  her,  and  she  was  conscientiously  powdered,  rouged,  and 
penciled.  She  would  have  passed  for  thirty-odd  years  old 
among  the  unobservant. 

She  and  Lucy  regarded  one  another  a  moment  in  silence. 
They  appeared  not  to  know  how  to  greet  each  other. 

"Surprised  you,  did  we?"  John  was  almost  boisterous. 

Mrs.  Merwent  gave  a  tinkly  nervous  laugh. 

"Aren't  you  going  to  kiss  me,  Lucy?"  she  asked.  Her 
lightness  of  manner  was  uncertain.  Her  eyes  strayed  over 
Lucy's  shoulder  to  Jim  who  leaned  aginst  the  mantel  shelf. 

Lucy  kissed  her  mother  silently.  Their  lips  barely  brushed. 
In  order  to  conceal  her  agitation  Mrs.  Merwent  gave  Lucy's 
hair  and  shoulders  meaningless  pats. 

"I'm  glad  you've  come,  Mamma."  Lucy's  voice  was  almost 
inaudible. 

"Oh,  dear,  such  a  journey!"  Mrs.  Merwent  twittered. 

Lucy's  clear  eyes  looked  at  her  mother  steadfastly.  John 
turned  to  Jim. 

"Nannie,  this  is  Jim  Sprague,  the  best  friend  in  the  world, 
and  the  worst  enemy." 

Jim  came  forward  and  shook  hands. 

"Forewarned  is  forearmed,"  she  said,  smiling  up  at  him. 
"I  hope  we'll  not  be  enemies." 

"No  fear  of  it,  Mrs.  Merwent."    Jim  smiled  in  reply. 

"She  says  we  must  all  call  her  Nannie,  Jim,"  broke  in  John. 
"That's  what  everybody  calls  her." 

Jim  bowed  and  smiled  again. 

Mrs.  Merwent  glanced  first  at  Jim  and  then  at  her  daughter. 

"We  thought  you'd  gone  out,"  she  observed  to  Lucy. 

Lucy  answered  quickly. 

"I  started  for  the  door,  but  you  came  in  so  suddenly  I 
didn't  get  there  in  time.  I  didn't  expect  you  in  an  automobile, 
you  know,  and  so  didn't  pay  any  attention  till  you  actually 
opened  the  door." 

"Were  you  upstairs?"  John  inquired. 

"No,  I  was  here,"  returned  Lucy. 

Mrs.  Merwent  put  her  hand  on  her  son-in-law's  arm. 

"It's  all  right,"  she  murmured ;  then  to  her  daughter,  "Now, 


BLIND    MICE  21 

Lucy,  I  think  I'll  go  up  to  my  room,  if  you  don't  mind,  and 
make  myself  presentable  after  my  journey." 

"Of  course,"  acquiesced  Lucy.  "Your  things  are  in  the 
hall,  aren't  they?  We'll  just— 

At  this  juncture  Dimmie,  who  had  slipped  around  to  Lucy 
and  hidden  his  face  in  her  dress,  began  to  cry.  Lucy  stooped 
down. 

"What's  the  matter,  darling?"  she  inquired. 

"She  d — d — didn't  e — e — even ,"  he  sobbed. 

"Why  of  course!"  put  in  Mrs.  Merwent.  "How  stupid  of 
me !  Come  and  kiss  your  Nannie  now." 

Lucy  pushed  Dimmie  forward. 

"Come  on."     He  hung  back. 

"I'm  afraid  you're  a  very  sensitive  little  boy,"  smiled  Mrs. 
Merwent. 

John  frowned. 

"Dimmie,  kiss  Nannie.    What  makes  you  act  that  way?" 

"Don't,  John,"  expostulated  Mrs.  Merwent.  "It's  because 
I'm  strange.  He'll  be  all  right  bye-and-bye."  Then,  to  the 
child,  "Won't  you,  Jimmie  ?" 

Dimmie  continued  to  cling  to  his  mother's  hand  and  did  not 
reply. 

"Dimmie,"  ordered  John  sternly,  "answer  Nannie." 

"Now,  John,"  put  in  Mrs.  Merwent  again,  "let  the  poor 
child  be.  It's  such  a  trifle." 

"I'll  show  you  to  your  room  now,  Mamma,"  Lucy  offered 
quietly. 

Mrs.  Merwent  glanced  questioningly  at  John  and  then  fol- 
lowed her  daughter.  Dimmie  accompanied  them,  still  hold- 
ing his  mother's  hand. 

"You  sure  did  it  up  in  style,"  Jim  remarked  as  the  two 
women  mounted  the  stairs. 

"Yes,"  admitted  John.  "It  seemed  so  mean  to  bring  her  in 
the  train  after  such  a  long  trip.  You  know  she's  been  used 
to  all  sorts  of  things — comforts  I  mean." 

Jim  relighted  his  pipe  in  silence. 

The  men  smoked  and  discussed  their  new  contract  until 
the  women  reappeared.  Both  avoided  any  further  reference 
to  the  addition  to  their  circle.  When  Lucy  and  her  mother 


S2  BLIND    MICE 

came  down,  the  elder  woman  was  tastefully  arrayed  in  a 
charming  house  dress  of  some  pale  green  sheer  material  that 
was  a  miracle  in  its  sophisticated  simplicity.  John  expressed 
his  admiration  and  Mrs.  Merwent  gave  a  silvery  laugh. 

"Oh,  this !  It's  an  old  easy  dress  I  wear  around  the  house. 
Mr.  Sprague  will  have  to  get  used  to  seeing  me  in  such  things. 
I  hear  he's  quite  one  of  the  family." 

Jim,  who  had  been  watching  Lucy  as  she  passed  to  and  fro 
from  the  kitchen,  answered,  "I'm  sure  it's  very  becoming, 
Mrs.  Merwent." 

Nannie  made  a  little  moue  at  John  while  Jim  continued: 

"We'd  better  get  down  town,  John.  You  know  Rowland 
is  coming  at  ten  o'clock  to  look  over  the  final  plans  for  his 
house  and  sign  the  papers,  and  you  especially  wanted  to  talk 
to  him  about  that  decoration  scheme  of  yours." 

"Do  you  think  my  trunks  are  safe  with  that  express  com- 
pany, John?"  interrupted  Mrs.  Merwent. 

"Why,  yes,  perfectly,  Nannie.  They'll  probably  be  here 
before  night." 

"Well,  would  you  mind  going  to  the  express  office  and  ask- 
ing if  they've  been  sent?  I'm  so  worried  about  them." 

"Sure.  I'll  call  them  up  as  soon  as  I  get  to  the  office," 
agreed  John  heartily. 

Nannie  sighed  a  trifle  resignedly. 

When  the  two  men  were  seated  in  a  car  of  the  train  bound 
for  the  city  John  commented  enthusiastically  on  the  incidents 
of  Mrs.  Merwent's  arrival. 

"I'm  glad  the  strained  feeling  is  over  with.  It'll  be  fine 
for  Lucy  to  have  her  mother  with  her,"  he  said. 

Jim  did  not  answer. 

"Mrs.  Merwent's  all  alone  now,"  pursued  John.  "She's  been 
very  badly  treated.  A  woman  needs  a  man  to  look  after 
her." 

For  reply  Jim  grunted. 


Ill 

Mrs.  Merwent  had  watched  John  and  Jim  until  they  turned 
the  corner.  When  they  were  out  of  sight  she  came  and  sat 
by  the  kitchen  table  where  Lucy  was  washing  the  breakfast 
dishes. 

"Let  me  help  you,  dear,"  Nannie  offered. 

"No,  thank  you,  Mamma.  It  isn't  much  and  it'll  be  done 
in  a  minute." 

"Now  you  mustn't  hesitate  to  ask  me  to  do  anything  I  can," 
went  on  the  older  woman.  "I  don't  want  to  be  a  burden  on 
John  and  you.  I  want  you  to  realize  that  I  am  willing  to  help 
and  that  I  cherish  no  ill  feeling  about  anything  that  has  hap- 
pened." 

Lucy  looked  at  her  in  surprise. 

"Well,  you  rest  up  today  from  your  journey,"  she  answered 
after  a  moment.  She  was  placing  dishes  in  the  china  cup- 
board. "You  must  be  tired." 

"I  never  saw  such  a  poor  service  on  any  railway,"  resumed 
Mrs.  Merwent,  having  interrupted  the  conversation  by  going 
into  the  dining  room  and  bringing  a  rocking  chair  out  into  the 
kitchen  for  herself.  "There  were  no  sterilized  drinking  cups 
and  no  electric  lights  in  the  berths.  I  don't  think  they  should 
be  allowed  to  run  such  old,  out-of-date  cars." 

Lucy  worked  a  moment  in  silence. 

"But  I  must  say  the  service  on  the  diner  was  good,"  pur- 
sued Nannie.  "I  had  some  fried  spring  chicken  that  was  so 
tender  and  juicy  it  fairly  melted  in  your  mouth." 

"I  haven't  been  on  any  but  a  suburban  train  since  our  wed- 
ding journey,"  Lucy  observed. 

"Oh,  Lucy,  what  a  terrible  time  that  was  for  me!"  Mrs. 
Merwent  drew  out  her  handkerchief. 

"I  thought  you  said  in  your  letter  that  we  wouldn't  dis- 
cuss what  happened,  Mamma,"  Lucy  accused  gently. 

23 


24  BLIND    MICE 

"Oh,  Lucy,  anyone  who  went  through  what  I  did  can't  for- 
get it  all  at  once,"  Mrs.  Merwent  protested. 

Lucy  was  silent  again. 

"But  I  cherish  no  hard  feelings,"  Nannie  went  on,  "al- 
though poor  Mother  never  got  over  your  going  away." 

After  a  few  moments  Nannie  returned  to  the  subject  of 
travel. 

"Don't  you  ever  go  away  from  the  city,  Lucy?  I  should 
think  it  would  be  dull  staying  in  one  place  so  long." 

"We  can't  afford  travelling."    Lucy  spoke  emphatically. 

"Well,  I  can't  either,  now."  Mrs.  Merwent  settled  herself 
more  comfortably  in  the  rocking  chair.  "It  was  only  the 
kindness  of  my  dear  friend,  Professor  Walsh,  that  made  it 
possible  for  me  to  have  any  comfort  at  all  on  the  way.  He 
came  part  way  with  me  and  arranged  that  I  was  to  be  looked 
after  until  the  end  of  my  journey." 

Lucy  busied  herself  with  the  preparations  for  luncheon. 

"I  do  wonder  if  my  trunks  are  safe !"  exclaimed  Nannie  af- 
ter a  short  pause.  "I  didn't  like  the  looks  of  the  man  who 
took  the  checks." 

"They're  safe,"  Lucy  assured  her.  "Don't  worry  about 
them." 

"Have  you  got  a  cup  of  coffee  made,  Lucy?"  her  mother 
then  asked,  surveying  the  kitchen. 

"Why,  I  thought  you  and  John  had  had  breakfast,"  Lucy 
apologised. 

"We  did,  but  it  was  so  early  and  I  was  so  excited  I  hardly 
ate  a  bite.  If  you  could  let  me  have  a  cup  of  coffee  and  a 
tea  cake  or  two — I'm  afraid  it  will  give  me  the  headache  if  I 
eat  nothing  until  luncheon." 

"Why,  of  course,  Mamma.  It'll  only  take  me  a  minute  to 
make  coffee."  Lucy  measured  the  water  as  she  spoke. 

"I  thought  it  was  already  fixed  or  I  wouldn't  have  asked 
for  it,"  protested  Nannie.  "I  don't  want  to  make  any  extra 
work." 

"Oh,  that's  nothing."  Lucy  put  cup,  saucer,  spoon,  and 
plate  on  the  kitchen  table. 

"Now  you  must  let  me  wait  on  myself,"  Mrs.  Merwent  ob- 


BLIND    MICE  25 

jected  as  Lucy  placed  the  sugar  bowl  and  cream  pitcher  be- 
fore her. 

"It's  all  ready,  Mamma." 

"I  had  no  idea  you'd  do  all  this,"  Nannie  remarked  as  she 
resigned  herself  to  the  consumption  of  coffee,  cookies,  and 
some  muffins  left  from  breakfast. 

"We'll  be  all  alone  for  luncheon.  John  never  comes  home 
at  midday,"  Lucy  informed  her  mother.  An  inviting  odor 
rose  from  the  range  as  she  raised  the  lid  of  a  pot. 

"Let's  have  strawberries  and  ice  cream,"  suggested  Nannie. 
I  just  love  strawberries.  It  makes  me  fairly  tremble  with  de- 
light when  they  go  down  my  throat." 

"I  don't  know  whether  they're  in  yet,"  said  Lucy. 

"Oh,  yes,  they  are.  I  saw  some  in  a  big  fruit  store  in  the 
city,  and  John  got  me  some  for  breakfast." 

"I  doubt  whether  we  can  get  any  out  here,  but  I'll  send 
Dimmie  to  the  store  around  the  corner  with  a  note  to  see." 

"Now  don't  let  me  interfere  with  your  arrangements.  It 
doesn't  make  any  difference  what  I  eat.  I  don't  want  to  make 
any  bother  while  I'm  here." 

"It's  no  bother,"  disclaimed  Lucy. 

She  had  already  planned  the  dessert  but  did  not  know  what 
else  to  say. 

When  Dimmie  returned  from  the  fruiterer's  he  came  into 
the  kitchen  and,  with  great  pride,  delivered  the  parcel  to  his 
mother. 

"The  man  only  had  two  boxes,"  he  announced,  "an'  he 
said  the  money  wasn't  enough  for  'em,  but  it  was  all  right. 
It's  all  wrote  in  the  note." 

"Thank  you,  darling,"  said  Lucy,  kissing  him. 

"You  should  wipe  your  feet  before  you  come  into  the 
house,  Jimmie,"  remonstrated  his  grandmother.  "See  how 
you  have  brought  dirt  into  the  kitchen.  Little  boys  should 
learn  to  be  thoughtful  of  others  and  not  make  work  unneces- 
sarily. That's  not  helping." 

"Oh,  it's  not  mud.  It  will  sweep  out  easily,"  explained 
Lucy,  smiling  at  Dimmie  whose  face  had  grown  troubled. 

"Well,  I'm  sure  I  didn't  mean  to  interfere,  Lucy,"  said 
Nannie.  "I  was  only  trying  to  help.  You're  the  one  who 


26  BLIND    MICE 

has  to  clean  up  ajjfter  him,  not  I.  You  are  so  different  from 
what  you  used  to  be.  We  never  used  to  have  the  slightest 
difference  of  opinion." 

Lucy  continued  to  smile. 

"I  don't  think  I  am  any  different,"  she  replied. 

"Yes,  you  are,"  insisted  her  mother.  "Getting  married  has 
changed  you.  I  must  say,  though,  I  was  agreeably  surprised 
in  your  husband.  John  is  really  delightful,  so  kind  and  con- 
siderate. I  overlooked  everything  and  we  became  friends  in 
no  time.  Now  much  does  he  make?" 

Lucy  opened  her  eyes  wide. 

"He  and  Mr.  Sprague  are  in  partnership  in  business  for 
themselves.  Some  months  they  make  more  than  others." 

"What  a  sweet  little  house  you  have,"  went  on  Nannie, 
whose  conversation  consisted  mostly  of  beginnings.  "How  I 
long  to  have  a  home  again !" 

"John  and  Jim  and  I  planned  it  out  together,"  explained 
Lucy,  ignoring  the  last  remark.  "All  those  water  colors  in 
the  dining  room  and  sitting  room  are  John's.  I  think  they 
make  the  house  look  intimate  and  homelike." 

"This  Mr.  Sprague  seems  to  be  quite  at  home  here,"  Nan- 
nie interrupted.  "Aren't  you  afraid  people  will  say  things?" 

Lucy  gazed  at  her  mother  a  moment  without  answering. 

"Let  me  tell  you  about  the  house,"  she  suggested  finally. 

"You  really  must  have  a  sideboard  in  your  dining  room, 
Lucy.  It  looks  so  bare.  Do  you  remember  the  rosewood 
sideboard  that  Papa  bought  for  Mamma  when  I  was  born? 
Cousin  Minnie  has  gotten  a  table  and  chairs  from  an  antique 
store  and  they  match  it  beautifully." 

Lucy's  sense  of  humor  came  to  her  rescue. 

"When  we  get  rich  we'll  have  rosewood  sideboards  and  lots 
of  other  things,"  she  said  laughingly. 

"Now  you're  making  fun  of  me,  Lucy,"  her  mother  com- 
plained in  a  hurt  tone.  "I  only  thought  you  might  have  a 
little  interest  in  the  furnishings  of  my  old  home.  I  didn't 
mean  that  you  could  get  one  like  it." 

Lucy  went  up  and  put  her  arms  around  Nannie. 

"No,  I  wasn't  making  fun  of  you,  Mamma.  Come  into  the 
sitting  room  and  I'll  show  you  Dimmie's  baby  pictures." 


BLIND    MICE  27 

"Really  I'm  so  tired  I  think  I'll  look  at  them  later.  I  think 
I'll  lie  down  till  luncheon  is  ready,  if  you  don't  mind.  I 
always  make  it  a  point  to  rest  thoroughly  for  a  few  minutes 
during  each  day.  You  have  no  idea  what  a  difference  it  would 
make  in  your  looks,  Lucy.  You  ought  to  make  that  a  rule 
which  nothing  should  interfere  with.  I  think  we  owe  it  to 
others  to  keep  ourselves  attractive." 

"I'm  afraid  that's  easier  said  than  done,  Mamma.  But  try 
to  get  your  nap.  It  will  refresh  you.  I'll  call  you  when 
luncheon  is  ready."  Lucy  spoke  with  determined  good  hu- 
mor. 

"Are  you  sure  those  trunks  of  mine  are  in  safe  hands, 
Lucy?"  Nannie  questioned  again  as  she  rose  to  go.  "I  have  a 
presentiment  that  something  will  happen  to  them." 

"Now  please  don't  worry  any  more  about  them,  Mamma. 
John  wouldn't  employ  any  firm  that  was  not  perfectly  re- 
liable." 

"Well,  I  hope  so,"  sighed  Nannie,  moving  toward  the  hall. 

When,  at  six  o'clock,  the  gate  clicked  and  John's  step  sounded 
on  the  walk,  Lucy  was  occupied  in  making  a  gravy  that  Nan- 
nie had  suggested,  and  so  was  unable  to  run  with  Dimmie  to 
meet  him  as  she  usually  did.  She  was  conscious  of  a  queer 
feeling  of  being  left  out  as  she  heard  him  and  Nannie  come 
into  the  dining  room  together. 

Mrs.  Merwent  had  on  a  gown  of  lavender  organdie,  open  at 
the  throat,  and  a  net  fichu  was  draped  about  her  shoulders.  In 
the  less  trying  light  she  looked  more  out  of  place  in  her  ma- 
ternal role  than  on  the  occasion  of  her  arrival  in  the  morn- 
ing. 

"Where's  Lucy  ?"  John  asked.  He  appeared  to  be  tired  and 
there  was  perspiration  on  his  forehead.  He  smiled  on  Nan- 
nie's fresh  appearance. 

"In  the  kitchen,  I  believe,"  Nannie  answered.  "I've  been 
busy  getting  the  table  ready."  She  held  some  flowers  in  her 
hand,  and  as  she  spoke  she  was  occupied  in  placing  them  in  a 
vase.  One  half -opened  rose  she  laid  by  John's  plate. 

He  went  into  the  kitchen  and  kissed  Lucy  as  usual.  Her 
muslin  dress  was  covered  by  an  apron.  Her  face  was  flushed 


28  BLIND    MICE 

and  a  loose  strand  of  hair  brushed  her  cheek  as  she  bent  over 
her  cooking.  She  replied  to  his  greeting  without  stopping  her 
work.  Instead  of  sitting  across  the  old  rush  bottomed  kitchen 
chair  with  his  arms  over  the  back  and  talking  about  his  expe- 
riences in  the  city,  as  was  his  custom,  he  returned  at  once  to 
the  dining  room. 

Notwithstanding  John's  water  colors  on  the  walls,  it  was 
rather  a  bare  little  place,  as  Nannie  had  said.  The  twilight 
entered  between  the  muslin  curtains,  however,  and  the  modest 
array  of  silver  and  glassware  glittered  on  the  table.  A  breeze 
scattered  the  odor  of  the  small  bouquet  of  flowers. 

As  John  entered  Nannie  switched  on  the  electric  light. 

Lucy  placed  the  food  on  the  dishes  and  Nannie  carried 
them  to  the  table. 

"My,  that  smells  good!"  John  exclaimed  boyishly.  "What 
have  you  got  for  us  ?"  He  and  Nannie  had  seated  themselves. 

"It's  a  steak  en  casserole  with  mushrooms,"  explained  Nan- 
nie, picking  a  tiny  bit  of  lint  from  his  sleeve.  "I  hope  you  en- 
joy it.  Poor  boy,  how  hungry  you  must  be  working  until  this 
hour  of  the  day!" 

"I'm  hungry,  too,"  announced  Dimmie,  who  had  come  in 
and  seated  himself  unnoticed. 

Lucy  now  appeared,  her  apron  removed.  "Are  you,  dear  ?" 
She  hesitated  by  the  table  without  seating  herself. 

"Why  don't  you  sit  down,  Lucy?"  John  asked. 

Lucy  seated  herself. 

"Will  you  hand  me  my  napkin  ring,  Mamma,"  she  re- 
quested, at  the  same  time  passing  a  folded  napkin  without  a 
ring  to  her  mother. 

"Why,  is  this  your  place?"  exclaimed  Nannie,  rising. 
"Come,  let's  change.  I  didn't  notice." 

"It  makes  no  difference,  Nannie,"  put  in  John.  "Sit  down 
and  let's  have  dinner." 

"No,  it  makes  no  difference,"  acquiesced  Lucy,  and  Mrs. 
Merwent  reseated  herself. 

"Well,  as  I'm  here,  I  might  as  well  serve  the  plates,"  re- 
marked Nannie.  "I  want  to  do  something  to  help." 

During  the  meal  John  talked  of  art,  his  manner  youthfully 


BLIND   MICE  29 

eager,  and  his  hair  falling  over  his  forehead  from  which  he 
pushed  it  back  with  the  graceful  gesture  peculiar  to  him. 

"I  have  to  design  cheap  houses,  Nannie,"  he  bewailed 
whimsically,  "instead  of  listening  to  the  voices  of  the  unseen 
that  are  calling  to  me." 

"It's  a  pity  you  haven't  money  so  you  could  follow  your 
natural  bent  and  be  an  artist,"  said  Nannie. 

"I  am  an  artist,"  John  rejoined,  rather  warmly.  "One 
doesn't  need  to  hold  oneself  aloof  from  common  life  to  be  an 
artist.  On  the  other  hand  one  must  learn  not  to  despise  com- 
mon things,  but  to  see  beauty  in  them." 

"I  only  meant  I  wished  you  didn't  have  to  worry  about 
money,"  she  persisted. 

"Of  course,  I  know  you  understand,  Nannie,  but  one  doesn't 
need  to  crowd  his  soul  with  small  things  just  because  he's 
poor.  If  he  will  he  can  see  beauty  that  is  not  for  the  eye  of 
his  senses."  John  glanced  up  at  his  pictures. 

"Lucy  tells  me  all  these  beautiful  water  colors  .are  yours, 
John."  Nannie  let  her  gaze  travel  about  the  room.  "They're 
simply  exquisite." 

"Well,"  John's  tone  was  deprecating,  "if  I'd  had  a  chance  I 
might  have  done  something  at  it." 

"It's  too  bad  you  don't  have  time  to  be  more  with  artistic 
people,  John,"  Lucy  put  in  with  an  affectionate  look  at  her 
husband. 

"I  love  pretty  things  too,  John,"  Nannie  said  quickly.  Lucy 
glanced  at  her  mother,  who  was  regarding  John. 

"I'll  have  to  play  for  you  after  dinner,"  Nannie  offered  a 
few  minutes  later. 

"I  remember  Lucy  told  me  you  played,"  he  answered.  "We 
got  the  piano  over  a  year  ago,  but  Lucy  never  has  time  to 
touch  it,  and  I  can't  do  anything  but  drum." 

"It  takes  a  lot  of  will  power  to  practice  regularly,"  replied 
Nannie,  "but  then  I  love  my  music  so.  I  never  let  a  day  go 
by  without  practicing." 

"We'll  have  to  go  to  some  concerts  next  winter,"  John  con- 
tinued. 

"How  nice,"  Nannie  smiled,  "but  I  don't  know  whether  I 
shall  be  here  next  winter.  There  may  be  somebody  else  who'll 


30  BLIND    MICE 

have  something  to  say  about  that."  She  glanced  down  de- 
murely. 

"Listen  to  that,  Lucy !" 

"Of  course  you'll  be  here  next  winter,  Mamma."  Lucy 
spoke  with  an  effort. 

"And  we'll  go  to  the  symphony  concerts."  John  was  en- 
thusiastic. "It'll  be  great,  Nannie.  Lucy  and  I  went  to  some 
of  them,  but  it's  hard  to  drag  her  out  of  the  house  in  cold 
weather.  You  remember,  Lucy,  we  heard  Beethoven's  Sym- 
phony in  C  Minor.  It  was  simply  grand,  Nannie." 

"It  must  have  been,"  Nannie  agreed  sweetly. 

"The  allegro  makes  me  think  of  the  human  soul  struggling 
against  its  fate."  John's  gaze  was  rapt.  "The  andante  is — is 
the  doubt  and  questionings  of  the  heart — and  their  answer." 
His  face  was  flushed.  Dimmie,  his  mouth  open,  stared  at  his 
father  with  a  fascinated  look. 

"Music  makes  me  feel  just  that  way,  John,"  Nannie  con- 
fided, "but  I  can't  express  myself  as  well  as  you." 

"It  takes  me  right  off  my  feet,  Nannie.  There's  the  scherzo 
of  that  C  Minor.  There's  where  the  struggle  gets  breathless. 
The  trio  and  recapitulation  sort  of  wonder  about  the  struggle 
and  tragedy.  Then  there's  a  little  pianissimo  that  is  near  the 
answer.  Then  the  finale  comes  along  and  takes  it  up  till  it 
winds  up  in  a  kind  of  shout  of  victory.  It's  great,  Nannie !" 

Lucy  watched  John  admiringly. 

"You  ought  to  have  been  a  critic,  John,"  Nannie  declared. 
"Music  means  so  much  to  me,  too." 

"I'm  nutty  about  it,  Nannie,"  John  vowed  boisterously. 
"We'll  go  to  all  the  concerts  that  come  along  and  have  a  gen- 
eral good  time." 

Lucy  said  nothing. 

"Can  I  have  a  good  time,  too?"  asked  Dimmie  suddenly. 

"Sure,  Son,"  John  agreed.  "Now  Nannie's  here  we'll  all 
have  a  good  time,  won't  we  ?" 

After  dinner  John  and  Nannie  went  into  the  living  room 
where  John  smoked  while  she  played  to  him.  The  Winters 
had  a  good  piano  but  Lucy  played  indifferently  and,  being 
very  busy  and  not  strong,  had  discontinued  practice.  They 


BLIND    MICE  31 

had  often  talked  of  buying  a  player  piano,  but  the  amount 
asked  by  the  dealer  above  the  value  of  their  own  instrument 
had  put  the  luxury  out  of  their  reach. 

Dimmie  helped  his  mother  clear  the  table  and  wash  the 
dishes,  and  when  the  tasks  were  done  these  two  joined  John 
and  Nannie.  However,  Dimmie  soon  grew  sleepy  and  Lucy 
led  him  away  to  bed,  remaining  with  him  to  tell  stories  and 
sing  lullabies  until  he  was  sound  asleep. 

When  she  returned  to  the  living  room  John  and  her  mother 
were  talking  earnestly. 

"Come  here,  Lucy,"  John  called  from  the  lounge.  "Nannie 
has  been  telling  me  more  about  her  trouble  with  your  father. 
I  had  no  idea  how  badly  he  had  treated  her.  It's  a  real 
shame !" 

"I  can't  talk  about  Papa,  John.  I  thought  we  weren't  going 
to  discuss  the  past,  Mamma."  Lucy's  tone  was  strained. 

"She  wasn't  accusing  anyone."  John  drew  Lucy  to  the 
lounge  beside  him.  "Don't  be  so  touchy,"  and  he  put  his  arm 
around  her  and  kissed  her  forehead. 

Lucy  began  to  smooth  back  his  disheveled  hair. 

"Cooing  doves,"  murmured  Nannie,  smiling.  "I  certainly 
hope  it  will  always  be  so  with  you."  She  put  her  hand  to  her 
eyes.  "My  life  has  turned  into  nothing  but  unhappiness — 
nothing  but  a  tragedy — that  is  if  it  had  not  been  for  the 
friendship  and  understanding  of — the  person  whom  neither  of 
you  know "  She  stopped. 

"Poor  Nannie !"    John  reached  and  took  her  hand. 

"I  want  some  affection,  too,"  she  pleaded,  pressing  his  hand. 
John  drew  her  from  her  chair  and  down  to  the  lounge,  so 
that  he  was  between  her  and  Lucy. 

"You  will  be  happy  here  with  us  and  forget  your  trouble. 
We  must  go  out  more,  Lucy,  now  that  Nannie  is  here.  It  will 
take  her  mind  off  the  past  and  keep  her  from  dwelling  on  it." 

Lucy  gently  disengaged  herself  from  John's  embrace  and 
rose. 

"Where  are  you  going,  Lucy  ?"  he  asked. 

"I  forgot  to  count  the  clothes.  The  washerwoman  is  com- 
ing for  them  early  in  the  morning." 

"Poor  Lucy !     She  don't  realize  that  this  is  your  only  time 


32  BLIND    MICE 

to  relax,  John.  I  could  easily  have  counted  the  clothes  before 
dinner  if  she  had  told  me  about  it,"  remarked  Nannie  when 
she  and  John  were  alone. 

After  some  time  Lucy  was  heard  ascending  the  stairs  and 
John  called  out,  "Why  don't  you  come  in  here,  Lucy  ?" 

"I  am  going  to  bed  early,"  she  answered.  "I've  a  lot  to  do 
tomorrow.  Is  there  anything  I  can  do  for  you,  Mamma? 
You  know  where  everything  is,  don't  you  ?" 

"Why  of  course  I  do,"  responded  her  mother,  coming  out 
into  the  hall.  "I  can  look  after  myself.  I  don't  want  you  to 
ever  worry  about  me.  Kiss  me  good  night."  Lucy  leaned 
over  the  balustrade  and  kissed  her. 

"I  hope  you  rest  well.  You've  been  working  too  hard.  I'm 
glad  I'm  here  to  help  you  now.  I  used  to  think  when  we  were 
separated  how  much  you  needed  my  care.  Poor  Mother  often 
spoke  of  it.  You  must  get  strong  again." 

"I'll  be  up  in  a  little  while,"  called  John. 

Lucy  undressed  herself  and  lay  down.  The  murmur  of  the 
voices  of  her  mother  and  her  husband  came  to  her  faintly. 
She  lay  and  thought. 

When  John  came  to  bed  he  supposed  her  to  be  asleep,  and 
tip-toed  about  the  room,  undressing  in  silence  without  a  light 
and  getting  into  bed  with  the  greatest  gentleness  to  avoid  wak- 
ing her.  Before  reclining  on  his  pillow  he  leaned  over  her 
and  saw  her  eyes  wide  open. 

"Why,  Lucy,  I  thought  you  had  gone  to  bye-bye,"  he  said, 
and,  lying  down,  took  her  in  his  arms. 

She  drew  away  from  him. 

"Why,  Lucy,  what's  the  matter  ?"  he  asked  in  a  hurt  tone. 

She  made  no  answer  but  he  could  feel  that  she  was  silently 
sobbing.  He  took  her  in  his  arms  again.  This  time  she  did 
not  resist. 

"Tell  me  what  it  is,  darling,"  he  pleaded. 

"Oh,  John,  do  you  want  anybody  but  me?"    She  wept. 

"Of  course  I  don't,"  he  returned  vehemently.  "What  made 
you  think  that  ?" 

"I  don't  know,"  she  answered  evasively,  vaguely  comforted 
by  his  ardent  denial. 

"Was  that  what  you  were  crying  about?"  he  asked. 


BLIND    MICE  33 

"No." 

"Well,  what  was  it  ?    Won't  you  tell  me,  sweetheart  ?" 

"Oh,  John,  it  wasn't  anything — except  I'm — so  tired." 

"I  know  you  must  be,"  he  whispered.  "It's  been  an  exciting 
day  for  you.  But  now  that  Nannie's  here  she  can  take  a  lot 
of  things  off  your  hands.  It  will  make  things  easier  for  you. 
You  poor  little  girl,  you  have  had  to  work  so  hard,  and  you 
aren't  strong." 

"I  don't  think  so,  John." 

"Don't  think  what?" 

"That  she  will  make  it  easier." 

He  considered  a  minute. 

"Lucy." 

"Yes?" 

"Were  you  crying  because  I  stayed  and  talked  with  Nannie 
instead  of  coming  upstairs  with  you?" 

"No — not  that  alone.    I " 

He  caught  her  tightly  to  him. 

"You  dear,  sweet,  foolish,  jealous  little  thing,"  he  whispered, 
laughing.  "The  idea !  Why  you  precious  darling,  I  was  only 
trying  to  be  nice  to  your  mother  on  her  first  day  for  your 
sake.  Lucy,  don't  you  ever,  ever  dream  fpr  a  second  that  any 
one  could  take  your  place  for  a  tiny  instant.  Why,  sweet- 
heart, I  love  you.  I  only  like  other  people." 

Lucy  kissed  him. 

Soon  they  were  asleep  in  each  other's  arms. 


IV 

Mrs.  Merwent's  maiden  name  was  Anna  Lockhart.  She  was 
born  in  a  southern  state,  of  a  family  that  was  considered  to  be 
aristocratic  and  distinguished.  None  of  its  members  had  ever 
accomplished  anything  noteworthy,  but  they  had  lived  a  long 
time  in  Russellville,  there  were  a  large  number  of  them,  and 
they  had  usually  raised  sugar  and  cotton  instead  of  corn  and 
tobacco. 

Her  earliest  memories  were  of  a  large,  square,  white  house 
with  a  front  porch  supported  by  Corinthian  pillars,  a  long 
drive-way  lined  with  great  trees  on  either  side,  and  much  dis- 
play of  lavish  hospitality. 

From  early  childhood  her  whims  were  gratified  and  it  never 
occurred  to  her  that  the  numerous  things  given  to  her,  the 
clothes,  the  pony,  the  negress  who  nursed  her,  the  rings  and 
brooches,  were  not  a  part  of  her  own  charm  and  importance. 

Her  first  pleasure  was  to  attract  attention ;  whether  by  do- 
ing things  that  earned  her  the  name  of  "Tomboy,"  by  being 
able  to  show  dresses  and  ribbons  finer  than  her  playmates,  or 
by  any  other  device  her  ingenuity  could  discover. 

She  liked  negroes  because  they  were  obsequious,  and  she  was 
saucy  to  white  children  supposed  not  to  be  her  social  equals 
whom,  in  imitation  of  her  elders,  she  designated  as  "trash." 

Anna,  or  Nannie  as  she  was  called,  delighted  in  showing  her 
power,  and  was  relentless  in  exacting  notice  and  recognition 
of  her  position.  She  stuck  pins  into  the  arms  of  Aunt  Martha, 
her  nurse,  while  the  old  negress  was  dressing  her ;  she  stepped 
on  the  bare  toes  of  the  small  black  children  on  her  father's 
place,  and  invented  punishments  for  the  dogs,  cats,  and  other 
domestic  animals  that  happened  to  be  at  her  mercy. 

Especially  she  enjoyed  her  tyranny  over  Troupe,  as  the 
large  family  dog  was  named.  It  pleased  her  to  see  him  grovel 
before  her  when  she  scolded  him.  She  often  played  a  game 
that  she  called  "circus."  She  would  tie  the  dog  with  a  rope 
that  had  a  loop  which  she  could  slip  over  a  stake  driven  into 

34 


BLIND    MICE  35 

the  ground,  and  with  a  buggy  whip  she  would  make  him  run 
round  and  round.  He  would  look  back  at  her  with  pleading 
eyes,  his  tail  clamped  to  his  body,  but  she  did  not  pity  him. 
When  he  was  completely  exhausted  he  would  lie  down,  his 
tongue  lolling  and  the  saliva  dripping  from  his  mottled  black 
gums.  After  she  untied  him  he  would  run  about,  crazy  with 
joy,  barking  and  licking  at  her  hands  and  ankles.  She  paid  no 
attention  to  these  demonstrations. 

Nannie  was  called  stingy,  as  she  seldom  divided  her  sweet- 
meats or  other  good  things  with  her  playmates,  and  would 
not  allow  them  to  touch  her  toys.  But  occasionally,  when 
glory  could  be  gotten  out  of  giving,  she  would  bestow  some 
old  or  broken  plaything,  always  demanding  profuse  expres- 
sions of  gratitude,  however,  from  the  recipient. 

No  attempt  was  made  to  teach  Nannie  any  useful  occupa- 
tion, and,  as  she  cared  neither  for  stories  nor  for  books,  the 
task  of  amusing  her  became  no  sinecure. 

As  she  grew  older  she  loved  to  go  shopping  with  her  mother 
in  the  little  town.  They  always  went  in  the  family  carriage  and 
•Mrs.  Lockhart,  who  considered  that  she  could  insult  salespeople 
with  impunity,  invariably  asked  for  the  best  in  a  haughty  voice 
and  inquired  the  price  after  she  had  decided  on  the  article. 

Nannie's  desire  to  attract  notice  increased  with  the  years. 
She  was  fond  of  having  her  picture  taken  in  fancy  dress  in 
imitation  of  various  popular  actresses.  One,  in  which  she  was 
represented  as  Iphigenia,  was  most  flattering  and  was  dis- 
played for  some  months  in  the  windows  of  the  establishment 
of  the  local  photographer. 

She  begged  a  riding  horse  from  her  father,  and  she  liked 
to  be  seen  in  elegant  riding  habits,  and  at  parties  in  sumptuous 
gowns  too  old  for  her.  She  adopted  a  pertness  and  flippancy 
of  speech  that  was  described  as  "smart"  and  assumed  a  domi- 
neering manner  toward  the  servants  which  was,  it  is  true,  less 
marked  as  regarded  the  "house  boy"  who  was  a  handsome 
young  mulatto. 

She  also  picked  out  for  condescending  notice  an  admiring 
girl  friend  at  the  private  school  which  they  both  attended  and 
made  a  chum  of  her.  This  girl,  Roberta  White,  was  far  from 
pretty,  and  could  be  patronized,  but  was  not  unintelligent,  and 


36  BLIND    MICE 

possessed  considerable  personality.  Unfortunately  Nannie's 
first  boy  admirer  soon  transferred  his  callow  devotion  to  "Bob 
White,"  as  Nannie  had  dubbed  Roberta.  There  was  a  curious 
scene  in  which  Bob  White  was  forever  disowned,  and  Nannie 
ever  after,  in  referring  to  it,  spoke  of  Roberta's  "ingratitude." 

Nannie  was  eighteen  years  old  when  she  left  school.  It 
was  a  disastrous  year  for  her  father.  He  had  inherited  money 
which  he  invested  and  spent  with  equal  display  and  absence 
of  judgment,  but  he  awoke  one  day  to  find  that  creditors  were 
impervious  both  to  the  dignity  of  the  Lockhart  name  and  the 
impressiveness  of  the  ancestral  mansion.  Mrs.  Lockhart  was 
an  efficient  person,  however,  and  brought  to  bear  upon  the 
situation  many  of  the  practical  qualities  in  which  hef  husband 
was  lacking.  The  same  could  not  be  said  of  Nannie,  who  had 
absorbed  from  those  around  her  what  seemed  a  tacit  recogni- 
tion of  divine  right  as  regarded  the  members  of  her  family. 
If  she  had  been  subject  to  her  father  alone  it  is  probable  that 
only  the  jolt  of  an  absolute  downfall  would  have  aroused  her  to 
an  appreciation  of  financial  values,  but  fortunately  Mrs.  Lock- 
hart  exercised  her  authority  as  decisively  as  was  her  custom 
and  gave  Nannie  to  understand  that,  for  the  time  being  at 
least,  she  might  enjoy  few  dresses  and  fewer  parties. 

Not  to  be  cut  out  of  the  gaieties  in  which  the  once  envious 
Bob  White  was  participating,  Nannie  astonished  no  one  more 
than  her  mother  by  displaying  considerable  taste  and  talent  in 
the  improvization  of  very  effective  frocks  with  the  simplest 
means.  Nannie  was  not  a  good  seamstress.  The  hastily  de- 
vised costumes  were  never  neatly  made  and  were  often  in 
actual  danger  of  falling  apart,  but  a  ribbon  here  or  a  flower 
there  was  applied  with  a  discrimination  that  Russellville  was 
not  too  provincial  to  recognize  as  "chic." 

Though  such  haphazard  dressmaking  was  her  only  con- 
tribution to  the  household  economy,  it  had  a  value  that  was 
more  than  apparent,  and  Mrs.  Lockhart  recognized  it.  She 
had  determined  that  Nannie  should  find  salvation  for  the  fam- 
ily by  attracting  a  husband  whose  pretensions  to  that  dis- 
tinction should  rest  on  a  solid  financial  basis. 

It  seemed  almost  a  divine  intervention  to  insure  the  Lock- 


BLIND   MICE  37 

harts'  future  when  Arthur  Merwent,  a  young  lawyer  from 
the  north,  came  to  the  home  town. 

Young  Merwent  rented  an  office  and  bought  some  furniture. 
He  purchased  steel  engravings  of  famous  jurists  to  decorate 
his  walls,  unpacked  his  law  books,  and  had  a  sign  painted  and 
hung  over  his  door. 

Mrs.  Lockhart  knew,  by  hearsay  at  least,  that  Merwent  held 
expectations  of  inheriting  some  money,  and,  as  the  young  man 
was  attractive  and  a  stranger,  it  was  soon  arranged  that 
Arthur  should  live  at  the  Lockhart  home.  He  insisted  on 
paying  for  his  board  and,  after  some  perfunctory  objections 
which  embarrassed  Nannie  and  Mr.  Lockhart  but  did  not  dis- 
turb the  mother,  this  was  agreed  to. 

Arthur  was  agreeable  but  uncommunicative.  His  reserve 
pleased  Nannie's  father,  who  was  pompous  of  manner  and 
weak  of  purpose,  but  invariably  inclined  to  be  enthusiastic 
about  a  new  aquaintance. 

"That  young  man  can  keep  his  mouth  shut.  He'll  rise1,"  Mr. 
Lockhart  often  said. 

From  the  beginning  Nannie  assumed  a  light  and  jesting  at- 
titude toward  Arthur.  She  was  saucy  and  capricious,  de- 
manding services  and  attentions  calculated  to  convince  him  of 
her  superior  birth  and  position,  and  suggesting  with  uncon- 
scious skill  potentialities  that  she  neither  possessed  nor  appreci- 
ated. He  said  little,  as  was  his  wont,  but  Nannie  was  clever 
enough  to  perceive  the  favorable  impression  she  was  making. 

Thrown  into  a  continuous  semi-intimacy  the  two  young 
people  reacted  as  might  have  been  expected  and  soon  the  im- 
perturbable Arthur  gravely  declared  himself.  Mrs.  Lockhart 
preserved  a  grim  neutrality  in  the  affair.  True,  his  financial 
prospects  were  inclined  to  soften  her,  but  with  all  that  he  was 
a  Yankee  and  there  existed  a  grave  doubt  as  to  the  aristocracy 
of  his  connections.  Her  husband,  who  had  visited  the  Mer- 
wents  and  had  been  considerably  impressed  by  the  prosperity 
evinced  in  their  domestic  establishment,  was,  however,  posi- 
tive in  his  approbation.  This  did  not  after  his  wife's  opinion  or 
change  her  attitude,  for  she  was  not  accustomed  to  take  his 
point  of  view  seriously ;  but  when  a  friend  made  a  self  imposed 
pilgrimage  to  the  Merwent  home  and  returned  with  enthusiastic 


38  BLIND    MICE 

corroboration  of  Mr.  Lockhart's  report,  Mrs.  Lockhart  re- 
lented and  her  negative  aloofness  became  encouragement. 

Nannie,  who  shared  the  common  conviction  that  Arthur  was 
a  rising  young  lawyer  and  a  desirable  catch,  consented  to  be- 
come engaged. 

This  did  not  hinder  her  from  indulging  in  coquettish  tricks 
of  a  number  and  variety  that  her  fiance  found  disconcerting. 

Finally  he  brought  things  to  an  issue,  refusing  to  be  played 
with  longer,  and,  after  exhausting  her  ingenuity  in  the  en- 
deavor to  gain  more  delay,  she  fixed  the  wedding  day  for  a 
date  four  months  ahead. 

Twice  in  the  midst  of  the  work  on  the  extensive  trousseau, 
Nannie  and  Arthur  quarrelled,  and  on  each  occasion  she  re- 
turned his  ring.  But  the  misunderstandings  were  adjusted  and 
the  wedding  morning  finally  arrived. 

Nannie  had  shown  much  interest  in  the  more  obvious  prep- 
erations  for  the  ceremony,  insisting  that  her  gowns  must  be 
of  such  and  such  a  price,  that  her  bridesmaids  outnumber 
those  of  her  previously  married  friends,  and  that  the  affair 
as  a  whole  be  conducted  with  an  eclat  which  strained  the  re- 
sources of  the  Lockharts'  reduced  finances  to  the  uttermost. 

Nevertheless,  on  the  day  before  the  wedding  she  showed 
herself  to  the  household  in  a  state  of  extraordinary  depression, 
wandering  listlessly  from  room  to  room,  striking  discordant 
notes  on  the  piano,  and  finally,  having  fled  from  Arthur's  pres- 
ence, she  was  discovered  face  downwards  on  an  old  horsehair 
sofa  in  a  violent  paroxysm  of  weeping. 

Mrs.  Lockhart,  who  had  gone  to  seek  her,  was  unable  to 
elicit  any  explanation  of  her  distress  and  called  Merwent. 
But  it  was  a  mistake.  Nannie  turned  on  him  with  a  storm 
of  accusations. 

"You've  wrecked  my  life!  I  don't  know  what's  to  become 
of  me !"  she  wailed. 

"It's  not  too  late  yet,  Nannie,"  Arthur  answered.  His  voice 
was  slightly  unsteady  and  his  eyes  shone  dangerously,  but  his 
manner  was  quiet. 

"Oh !  Oh !  How  dare  you !  I  was  never  so  insulted  in  my 
life !  You  don't  care  how  much  disgrace  and  humiliation  you 


BLIND   MICE  39 

heap  on  me !  It  doesn't  make  any  difference  to  you  what  they 
say  about  me !" 

Arthur  was  left  alone.  He  sat  on  the  sofa  Nannie  had 
quitted  and  held  his  head  in  his  hands.  After  a  few  moments 
he  rose  and  lighted  a  cigar.  He  was  smoking  when  Mrs. 
Lockhart  came  in  search  of  him  a  quarter  of  an  hour  later. 
She  brought  with  her  a  glass  of  hot  eggnog  which  she  had 
made  to  comfort  him. 

"It's  all  the  perfectly  natural  result  of  her  high  strung 
state,"  remarked  Mrs.  Lockhart  emphatically.  "You  must  re- 
member this  is  the  last  day  of  her  girlhood,"  she  added  in  a 
significant  manner. 

Arthur  drank  the  eggnog  and  said  nothing. 

The  next  day,  however,  Nannie  was  radiant.  Her  mother 
and  her  cousin,  Mrs.  Sheldon,  had  helped  to  dress  her.  The 
wedding  gown  bore  the  mark  of  an  expensive  Louisville 
house,  the  bouquet  was  of  white  orchids,  and  the  diamond 
pendant  which  Arthur  had  given  her,  though  modestly  small 
and 'fragile,  glittered  becomingly  on  her  plump  throat. 

Arthur  entered  the  church  gravely,  his  head  bent,  and  even 
as  Nannie  came  toward  him  at  the  chancel  rail  he  did  not  lift 
his  eyes.  It  was  only  as  they  stood  side  by  side  that  he 
glanced  at  her  face.  Every  trace  of  depression  had  vanished. 
She  held  her  head  high  with  the  slightly  insolent  air  that  she 
had  so  often  been  told  was  aristocratic,  and  she  really  looked 
prettier  than  he  had  ever  seen  her. 

The  recessional  was  played.  As  the  bridal  couple  emerged 
from  the  church  he  turned  slightly  toward  her. 

"Well,  Nannie,"  he  whispered,  smiling  a  little. 

They  were  close  to  the  carriage  steps.  Arthur  moved  back 
to  assist  her.  By  some  chance  awkwardness  his  heel  caught 
in  a  loop  of  catin.  There  was  a  tearing  sound  and  Nannie 
flung  herself  from  his  grasp. 

"I'm  sorry,"  he  murmured. 

An  impassioned  but  enigmatic  "Ah!"  was  her  only  reply, 
and  until  the  house  was  reached  she  sat  far  away  from  him  on 
the  carriage  cushions,  replying  in  monosyllables  until  Arthur 
relapsed  into  moody  silence.  When  they  arrived  at  their  des- 


40  BLIND   MICE 

tination  Nannie  left  the  carriage  hurriedly  and  unassisted. 

A  supper  had  been  planned  but  the  hour  of  the  departure 
of  the  train  they  were  to  take  prevented  their  presence.  There 
was,  however,  no  way  to  escape  the  brief  reception.  At  this 
function  Nannie,  who  had  looked  almost  defiantly  spirited 
during  the  ceremony,  assumed  a  sudden  appearance  of  dis- 
concerting melancholy.  The  pair  stood  under  an  arch  of 
smilax,  and  Nannie  could  see  herself  quite  plainly  in  the  long 
pier  glass  opposite  and  appreciated  how  large  and  dark  her 
eyes  seemed  in  the  shadows  that  fell  on  her  face. 

The  affair  as  a  whole  was  not  gay.  Mrs.  Lockhart  shed  a 
few  impressive  tears,  glancing  somewhat  apprehensively  from 
time  to  time  at  her  daughter's  unresponsive  features.  Bob 
White  had  come  to  the  reception,  being  herself  engaged.  Nan- 
nie greeted  her  with  effusive  sadness  and  clasped  her  in  an  em- 
brace that  was  like  a  despairing  renewal  of  devotion.  The  two 
girls  talked  in  low  tones,  and  Arthur  was  conscious  of  being 
ignored.  A  few  moments  later  Nannie  went  off  to  prepare 
for  travel  and  he  was  able  to  excuse  himself. 

It  was  half  past  eleven  at  night.  The  Pullman  was  dimly 
lighted.  Merwent  had  avoided  a  stateroom  and  every  ap- 
pearance that  might  indicate  that  he  and  Nannie  were  a  bridal 
couple,  but  he  felt  that  the  fresh  modishness  of  Nannie's  cos- 
tume betrayed  them.  They  sat  down  in  a  vacant  seat  while 
the  beds  were  being  made  up.  Arthur  kept  an  unresponsive 
profile  turned  to  his  wife.  He  had  resolved  not  to  make  any 
more  advances. 

The  two  swayed  stiffly  with  the  motion  of  the  car.  The  wood- 
work creaked.  Long  shadows  moved  up  and  down  at  the  end 
of  the  passage.  Snoring  from  a  curtained  berth  was  audible. 

Nannie  touched  Arthur's  arm  lightly.  He  looked  down  at 
her  in  surprise.  She  was  regarding  him  with  a  new  and  soft- 
ened expression. 

"Arthur !"    Her  voice  shook  slightly. 

His  face  cleared. 

"Nannie  1"    They  kissed  stealthily. 

When  the  conductor  came  down  the  aisle  they  were  sitting 
consciously  far  apart  and  Arthur's  face  was  flushed. 


V 

Lucy  was  born  about  a  year  after  the  Merwent  wedding. 

Although  everything  was  normal  and  the  baby  a  fine  healthy 
child,  Nannie  persistently  vowed  that  she  had  gone  through 
an  experience  never  before  equalled  and  that  she  could  never 
have  another  child. 

Toward  the  end  of  their  wedding  journey,  over  some  slight 
misunderstanding  at  a  hotel,  Nannie  had  given  way  to  a  hys- 
terical fit  of  passion  that  amazed  and  dismayed  her  husband, 
but  this  was  nothing  compared  with  the  scene  when  she  dis- 
covered that  she  was  pregnant.  Tears,  screams,  striking 
Arthur  in  the  face,  with  threats  of  killing  herself,  him,  and 
the  child  were  only  the  beginnings  of  the  drama.  However, 
Arthur  had  by  this  time  begun  to  perfect  his  attitude  of  non- 
reaction  to  the  stimuli  she  employed,  and  went  to  his  office  un- 
worried. 

Nannie  afterward  in  a  thousand  ways  suggested  that  the 
coming  of  the  child  was  in  the  nature  of  a  crime  and  a  calam- 
ity, and  that  Arthur  was  to  blame  for  it.  Nannie's  father  died 
a  month  before  her  confinement  and  she  even  implied  that 
Arthur  was  responsible  for  this  coincidence.  To  add  to  her 
sense  of  disappointment  and  injury  Mr.  Merwent  senior,  who 
had  been  ill  for  some  time,  died  also,  leaving  an  involved 
estate,  and  the  hope  that  Nannie  had  secretly  treasured  of 
inheriting  his  money  died  with  him.  Arthur's  future,  from  the 
Lockhart  standpoint,  had  ceased  to  be.  Mrs.  Lockhart,  call- 
ing to  ascertain  the  truth  of  the  rumor  already  circulated  by 
gossiping  neighbors,  met  Nannie's  tearful  announcement  with, 
"I  always  thought  so !"  and  when  Arthur  entered  the  house  a 
few  moments  later,  she  greeted  him  with  marked  coldness. 
After  her  mother's  departure  Nannie  turned  on  him  with 
fresh  reproaches. 

"Now  we  are  penniless  and  you  don't  seem  to  care!"  she 
exclaimed. 

Arthur  did  not  reply. 


42  BLIND    MICE 

"I  seem  to  be  the  only  one  who  ever  thinks  about  the  baby's 
future.  You  haven't  opened  your  mouth  since  we  got  the  let- 
ter!" 

Arthur  took  out  a  cigar  and  lighted  it. 

"O — oh!  Why  don't  you  say  something?  I'll  go  crazy!" 
she  almost  screamed. 

"I  don't  see  just  what  there  is  to  say,"  Arthur  answered 
quietly,  and  left  the  room. 

Nannie's  bitterness  was  accentuated  by  the  fact  that  Arthur 
could  not  afford  to  buy  the  Lockhart  residence  which  had  to  be 
sold  to  clear  her  own  father's  estate,  and  she  was  forced  to  see 
the  property  pass  into  the  hands  of  "Cousin  Minnie  Sheldon'r 
whom  she  cordially  hated.  The  spirit  of  rivalry  between  Nan- 
nie and  her  cousin,  the  fruit  of  a  childhood  antipathy,  had 
reached  its  climax  in  a  contest  for  the  affections  of  the  well- 
to-do  young  business  man  who  afterward  became  Minnie's 
husband,  and  when  he  and  his  wife  took  formal  possession  of 
Nannie's  ancestral  home  she  felt  it  as  the  cruel  affirmation  of 
her  first  defeat. 

Mrs.  Lockhart,  who  on  previous  occasions  had  not  hesitated 
to  express  her  own  disapproval  of  "Cousin  Minnie,"  after 
feeble  and  unconvincing  protestations  to  the  effect  that  she  did 
not  wish  to  inconvenience  her  prosperous  relatives,  accepted  a 
grudging  offer  which  allowed  her  to  remain  in  the  old  place 
on  the  bounty  of  its  new  owner. 

Little  Lucy  was  weaned  soon  after  she  was  born,  for  Nannie 
declared  that  she  could  not  nurse  a  baby.  By  great  good  for- 
tune, however,  sterilized  cow's  milk  agreed  with  the  child  and 
she  thrived,  thanks  to  the  devoted  care  of  old  Martha  who 
came  to  live  with  Nannie  and  Arthur  and  "bring  up"  their 
baby.  Nannie  continually  quarreled  with  the  old  negress  but 
Aunt  Martha  stayed  on,  partly  from  a  habit  of  allegiance  to 
the  family  and  partly  from  real  devotion  to  little  Lucy. 

Nannie  gave  scant  attention  to  her  baby  until  other  people 
began  to  notice  and  praise  the  child,  when  she  promptly  as- 
serted her  proprietorship,  pointing  out  with  great  pride  the 
little  thing's  remarkable  feats  and  insisting  that  Lucy  be  given 
to  her  whenever  visitors  were  present.  Nevertheless,  the 
child  preferred  Aunt  Martha  and  even  Arthur,  as  the  latter 


BLIND    MICE  43 

often  held  his  daughter  during  the  evenings  and  sang  lullabies 
to  her.  Nannie  resented  this  deeply,  and  it  made  her  secretly 
furious  to  see  Lucy  toddle  toward  him  as  he  came  into  the 
room.  She  often  said  things  to  drive  Arthur  out  of  the  house 
so  that  he  need  not  divide  the  child's  affections. 

Lucy  did  not  begin  to  go  to  school  until  she  was  eight  years 
old.  Even  then  her  mother  objected  to  the  separation,  and  in 
the  little  girl's  absence  wandered  restlessly  about  the  house. 
Lucy,  on  her  return,  was  covered  with  kisses.  Acquaintances 
remarked  on  the  unusual  affection  between  the  two,  although 
Nannie  spoke  crossly  and  often  cruelly  to  the  child  when  they 
were  alone,  and  not  infrequently  struck  her.  In  attitude  she 
placed  herself  on  an  equality  with  Lucy  and  at  times  depended 
on  the  little  girl's  judgment  and  ideas. 

Nannie  could  never  help  Lucy  with  her  lessons  at  night, 
saying  that  the  figures  in  the  book  made  her  head  ache,  and  if 
Arthur  attempted  to  offer  any  assistance  a  situation  was 
usually  precipitated  that  resulted  in  driving  him  from  the 
house.  Left  alone  with  the  little  girl,  Nannie  played  and  sang, 
or  produced  candy  from  some  hiding  place,  while  she  per- 
suaded the  child  to  talk  to  her  about  teachers  and  school- 
mates. She  enjoyed  giving  her  piano  lessons  because  Arthur 
knew  nothing  of  music.  However,  she  never  wanted  Lucy  to 
try  to  sing  and  always  insisted  that  her  daughter  had  no  voice 
for  singing. 

Nannie,  however,  resented  Lucy's  growing  self-sufficiency 
as  the  girl  became  graver  of  manner  and  expressed  herself 
positively  on  all  sorts  of  subjects. 

Arthur's  law  practice  did  not  increase  and,  as  there  were  no 
more  expectations  from  his  father's  estate,  it  was  decided  to 
discharge  Aunt  Martha.  After  the  old  woman  had  gone  Nan- 
nie made  a  few  half-hearted  experiments  at  cooking,  but  soon 
relegated  this  undertaking  to  her  daughter,  who  at  sixteen 
was  virtually  the  head  of  the  domestic  establishment. 

But,  though  Lucy  was  responsible  under  this  arrangement 
for  the  selection  and  quantity  of  food  bought  for  the  family, 
Mrs.  Merwent  reserved  for  herself  the  prerogative  of  giving 
orders  to  the  groceryman.  The  young  solicitor,  who  always 
made  a  punctual  appearance,  had  soft  brown  eyes  and  a  beau- 


44  BLIND   MICE 

tiful  complexion.  Nannie  never  opened  the  back  door  to  him 
without  first  looking  into  the  mirror. 

"Are  you  sure  your  eggs  are  fresh  today?"  she  would  ask 
coquettishly.  She  tapped  him  on  the  arm  with  the  pencil  she 
held  as  she  objected  to  the  exorbitant  price  of  bacon. 

Lucy,  who  was  annoyed  by  his  habit  of  staring,  expressed 
her  dislike. 

"Well,  you  don't  have  to  give  the  orders  to  him !"  was  her 
mother's  pettish  answer. 

Lucy  worked  too  hard  and,  as  a  result,  became  ill.  Arthur 
was  away  at  the  time.  Nannie  called  the  family  physician  and 
annoyed  the  girl  with  useless  attentions.  The  doctor  tele- 
graphed Menvent  that  his  daughter's  condition  was  serious. 
Arthur  returned  on  the  first  train  and,  arriving  at  the  house, 
found  Nannie  walking  the  floor  with  senseless  gestures.  He 
went  into  the  sick  room  and  seated  himself  beside  Lucy's  bed 
His  quiet,  emotionless  manner  seemed  to  drive  Nannie  to  dis- 
traction. Her  chief  resentment,  however,  seemed  to  arise 
from  the  fact  that  he  did  not  comfort  her  but  only  concerned 
himself  with  Lucy. 

"Are  you  going  to  eat  your  dinner,  or  sit  there  all  night?" 
she  asked,  her  voice  trembling  with  vindictiveness. 

Arthur  went  into  the  dining  room  without  answering.  Nan- 
nie shut  the  door  between  them.  She  would  not  eat  because  she 
did  not  want  to  leave  Arthur  and  Lucy  alone  together,  and 
the  doctor  was  obliged  to  order  her  to  begin  her  meal.  When 
she  did  go,  however,  her  appetite  was  as  hearty  as  usual. 

After  a  few  critical  days  Lucy's  condition  improved  and  on 
the  fourth  morning,  when  the  crisis  was  passed,  she  smiled  at 
Arthur.  Nannie,  in  the  room  at  the  time,  bent  over  the  bed. 

"Why  don't  you  smile  at  Nannie?"  she  asked  accusingly, 
and  Lucy  smiled  at  her  mother  too. 

Arthur,  as  was  his  wont  when  he  saw  the  approach  of  a 
useless  scene,  left  the  room. 

During  the  convalescence  Nannie  invented  a  thousand 
meaningless  attentions  with  which  she  endeavored  to  fix  upon 
herself  the  regard  of  the  invalid,  but  as  Lucy  grew  stronger 
and  began  to  walk  about  Nannie  forgot  to  flutter  around  her 
and  their  life  together  resumed  its  former  course. 


VI 

Even  after  reaching  the  age  when  young  girls  begin  to 
notice  the  opposite  sex,  Lucy  preferred  girls  to  men.  She  also 
delighted  in  caring  for  younger  children  and  babies.  Nannie 
laughed  at  Lucy  for  not  having  beaux. 

"I  had  dozens  at  your  age/'  she  would  say. 

The  most  common  cause  of  misunderstanding  between  the 
mother  and  daughter  was  Nannie's  trick  of  regarding  every 
remark  about  other  people,  or  about  human  nature  in  general, 
as  a  covert  slur  on  herself.  Each  mention  of  an  ignoble  qual- 
ity brought  forth,  "That's  just  like  me,"  from  Nannie,  while 
any  reference  to  an  admirable  characteristic  was  greeted  with, 
"I  haven't  got  that." 

"I  wish  Mamma  wasn't  that  way,"  Lucy  confided  to  her 
father  one  night,  after  a  number  of  irritating  experiences  with 
this  mania.  "It  makes  things  so  unpleasant."  The  evening 
had  ended  in  a  quarrel  and  Nannie  had  gone  upstairs  to  cry. 

"Your  mother  has  every  defect  of  character  that  can  be 
mentioned,"  Arthur  replied,  "so  I  suppose  she  shouldn't  be 
blamed  for  being  sensitive." 

Lucy  was  surprised  by  the  bitter  feeling  in  the  tone  of  her 
usually  silent  and  impassive  father,  and  remembered  his  re- 
mark. 

Nannie  spent  a  great  deal  of  time  in  beauty  culture.  She 
tried  all  sorts  of  exercises  and  devices  for  preserving  her 
figure  and  warding  off  wrinkles.  Every  recipe  she  saw  in  the 
women's  columns  of  the  newspapers  she  tested  carefully. 
Each  day  a  large  part  of  the  morning  was  devoted  to  a  faith- 
ful observance  of  these  rites,  and  she  never  neglected  to  take 
her  "beauty  nap"  during  the  afternoon.  Often  she  would  gaze 
with  envy  at  Lucy's  charming  color  and  clear  eyes. 

"I  don't  want  to  grow  old  and  ugly,  Lucy,"  she  would  say. 

45 


46  BLIND    MICE 

"I'm  so  afraid  of  growing  old!  Do  you  think  I  am  beginning 
to  show  my  age?" 

"Why,  Mamma,  what  nonsense!  You  look  like  a  girl," 
Lucy  would  reply,  for  Nannie's  efforts  were  not  without  a 
certain  kind  of  effect. 

"Do  you  really  think  so?"  she  would  ask  happily.  "Don't 
tell  anybody  I  use  rouge,  will  you  ?" 

"I  won't,"  Lucy  always  promised. 

After  taking  up  her  residence  with  "Cousin  Minnie  Sheldon" 
Mrs.  Lockhart  seldom  visited  her  daughter. 

One  summer  afternoon,  however,  a  carriage  stopped  before 
the  Merwents'  gate. 

"Why,  I  believe  that's  Mamma  coming  here,"  Nannie 
whispered  excitedly,  as  the  carriage  door  was  opened. 
"There's  a  young  man  with  her!"  she  added.  "Who  in  the 
world  can  it  be  ?  You  stay  here  to  receive  them,  Lucy.  Tell 
Mamma  I'll  be  down  in  a  minute,"  and  she  ran  upstairs  to 
change  her  dress  and  improve  her  complexion. 

"Well,  well,  is  this  my  grandbaby?"  Mrs.  Lockhart  ejacu- 
lated as  she  entered  the  hall  and  offered  her  cheek  for  Lucy 
to  kiss.  "You're  a  young  lady  already,"  and  she  surveyed 
Lucy's  reddened  cheeks  and  well  developed  figure  with  ap- 
proval. 

The  young  man  remained  in  the  background,  ill  at  ease. 

"This  is  Kingsley  Dodd,"  Mrs.  Lockhart  announced,  wav- 
ing him  forward.  "He  saw  you  at  your  father's  office  and  has 
given  me  no  peace  till  I  brought  him  over  to  call  on  you." 

Young  Dodd,  red  to  his  hair,  bowed  and  shook  hands  awk- 
wardly. 

"Where's  Nannie?"  Mrs.  Lockhart  asked,  entering  the  par- 
lor and  seating  herself.  "Sit  down,  Kingsley,"  she  com- 
manded her  follower. 

"Mamma  will  be  down  in  a  minute,"  explained  Lucy. 

Nannie  delayed  many  minutes,  and  Lucy  became  more  and 
more  self-conscious  under  the  influence  of  her  grandmother's 
continued  scrutiny  and  the  confusion  of  the  new  acquaintance, 
answering  briefly  his  timid  observations  and  Mrs.  Lockhart's 
peremptory  questions. 


BLIND    MICE  47 

At  last  Nannie  appeared  on  the  stairs  in  her  best  afternoon 
frock. 

"Why,  Mamma,"  she  exclaimed,  "how  nice  of  you!  I'm 
so  glad  to  see  you." 

"You  kept  us  waiting  long  enough  if  you  are  glad." 

"I  was  in  my  bath,"  lied  Nannie,  "and  couldn't  come 
sooner." 

Lucy  looked  at  her  mother. 

"Well,  I'm  glad  you  still  take  baths,"  remarked  Mrs.  Lock- 
hart  as  Nannie  kissed  her. 

Nannie  laughed. 

"We're  not  that  poor,"  she  tittered. 

"This  is  Mr.  Kingsley  Dodd."  Mrs.  Lockhart  motioned 
her  companion  forward  again.  "Judge  Dodd's  only  son.  You 
remember  Judge  Dodd,  Nannie." 

"Yes  indeed !"  Nannie  smiled  her  sweetest  and  shook  hands 
with  Kingsley.  "We're  delighted  to  know  you,  too,"  she  de- 
clared as  she  beamed  on  the  youth. 

"Nannie,  I  want  to  see  that  old  dresser  your  father  gave 
you.  We're  furnishing  a  guest  room  in  antiques  and  maybe 
it  will  just  fit  in.  If  it  does,  I'll  give  you  another,"  said  Mrs. 
Lockhart  after  a  brief  conversation. 

"But,  Mamma "  Nannie  began. 

Mrs.  Lockhart  frowned  at  her  meaningly. 

"All  right,"  Nannie  acquiesced  hastily,  and  the  two  women 
ascended  the  stairs. 

"Young  Kingsley  is  greatly  taken  with  Lucy,"  explained 
Mrs.  Lockhart,  coming  to  the  point  at  once  as  soon  as  they 
were  out  of  hearing  of  Lucy  and  her  guest.  "You  know  all 
Judge  Dodd's  money  will  go  to  Kingsley.  It's  Lucy's  great 
chance.  I  don't  know  how  she  did  it.  He's  just  come  back 
from  college  and  all  the  girls  in  town  have  set  their  caps  for 
him.  Now  I  am  going  to  look  to  you  to  see  that  Lucy  doesn't 
do  anything  foolish." 

Nannie  nodded  obediently. 

"I'll  do  all  I  can,"  she  agreed,  "but  Lucy  is  hard  to  manage. 
She ". 

"Nonsense !"  interrupted  Mrs.  Lockhart.  "If  you  will  only 
use  sense  and  firmness  she  will  do  anything  you  want  her  to. 


48  BLIND   MICE 

You  made  a  mess  of  your  own  marriage.  If  you  marry  your 
daughter  to  the  heir  of  Judge  Dodd  it  isn't  too  late  to  get 
back  where  you  ought  to  be." 

"I  will,"  put  in  Nannie  enthusiastically. 

"Well,  let's  go  down  again,"  ordered  her  mother,  after  a 
few  minutes  further  consultation.  "We  shouldn't  make  things 
too  marked  the  first  visit." 

"We  must  go,  Kingsley."  Mrs.  Lockhart  spoke  imperatively 
as  she  reentered  the  room  where  the  two  young  people  were 
seated. 

The  docile  youth  rose. 

"You  must  come  again."    Nannie  smiled  invitingly. 

"Thank  you,"  he  replied,  glancing  first  at  her  and  then  at 
Lucy.  "I've  had  a  mighty  nice  time.  What  evening  can  I 
come  ?"  He  glanced  at  Lucy  again. 

"You  haven't  anything  for  Thursday  evening,  have  you, 
Lucy  ?"  inquired  Nannie,  assisting  him. 

"No,"  returned  Lucy,  who  indeed  had  no  engagements  for 
any  evening. 

"Thanks,"  Dodd  said  quickly,  "then  I'll  come  Thursday." 

"Come  early  and  have  tea  with  us,"  urged  Nannie  in  re- 
sponse to  a  nod  from  her  mother. 

"Thanks,"  he  repeated,  "I  will.  Good-bye,"  shaking  hands 
with  Lucy.  Then,  "Good-bye,  Mrs.  Merwent.  Thank  you  so 
much.'1 

"Oh,  the  pleasure  will  be  ours,"  Nannie  declare'd. 

Mrs.  Lockhart  kissed  Nannie  and  Lucy,  pinching  the  lat- 
ter's  cheek. 

"We'll  have  to  give  a  little  party  for  my  grandbaby.  She's 
the  picture  of  her  grandpapa,"  the  old  lady  declared,  smiling. 

"Did  you  hear  what  she  said,  Lucy  ?"  Nannie  asked  delight- 
edly as  soon  as  their  callers  were  gone. 

"Yes,"  answered  Lucy. 

"Isn't  it  just  grand?"  continued  Nannie  with  enthusiasm. 

"What?    The  party?" 

"Why,  no — yes — the  party  and  everything." 

"I  don't  think  so,  Mamma.  As  for  the  party,  I  won't  have 
it.  So  far  as  the  rest  goes,  you  already  have  been  invited  to 


BLIND    MICE  49 

Cousin  Minnie's  and  I  don't  want  to  be  invited,  so  I  don't 
see  what  you  have  gained." 

"I !"  exclaimed  Nannie  indignantly.  "Why,  Lucy,  I  wasn't 
thinking  of  myself  at  all.  It's  you  I'm  glad  for." 

"But  I  don't  see  what  I  have  to  do  with  it,  Mamma.  Cousin 
Minnie  and  Grandmamma  have  never  paid  any  attention  to 
me  before  and  I  wouldn't  thank  them  for  their  attention  now." 

"But,  Lucy " 

"What,  Mamma?" 

"Lucy,  it  isn't  only  Mamma  and  Cousin  Minnie.  It  means 

that — it  means "  Lucy's  steady  eyes  were  upon  Nannie, 

"It  means  that  others — that  we  will  be " 

"If  you  mean  that  you  want  me  to  go  around  with  Kingsley 
Dodd  so  as  to  be  taken  up  by  the  people  who  dropped  us  when 
Papa  failed  to  make  money,  I  won't  do  it,  that's  all." 

"Why,  Lucy!" 

"Our  own  relatives  have  treated  Papa  like  dirt  and  the 
others  have  followed  them,  so  I,  for  one,  don't  want  anything 
to  do  with  them." 

Nannie  assumed  a  maternal  and  authoritative  tone. 

"Lucy,  you  don't  realize  what  you  are  saying.  I  won't  allow 
you  to  ruin  your  chances  in  any  such  manner.  You  told 
Kingsley  Dodd  that  he  could  come  Thursday  night  and " 

"You  mean  you  invited  him,  Mamma." 

"Well,  you  agreed  and  it's  the  same  thing." 

"I'll  see  him  when  he  comes  Thursday,"  Lucy  conceded, 
"but  I  won't  again,  and  I  won't  go  to  the  party,  so  you  had 
better  tell  Grandmamma  not  to  count  on  it." 

"What  in  the  world  have  you  got  against  Kingsley?"  Nan- 
nie demanded,  now  on  the  defensive. 

"I  don't  like  him,  and  if  I  did  I  wouldn't  have  anything  to 
do  with  him  under  the  circumstances." 

Nannie  lost  her  temper. 

"You  shan't  act  this  way!"  she  almost  screamed. 

Lucy's  gaze  did  not  waver.    "Yes,  I  shall,"  she  said  steadily. 

Nannie  burst  into  tears.  Lucy  hesitated  a  moment  before 
she  continued. 

"I'm  sorry,  Mamma,  but  I  can't  help  feeling  this  way,"  she 
said  at  last. 


50  BLIND    MICE 

Nannie  made  no  reply  and  went  on  sobbing.  Looking  rather 
miserable,  Lucy  left  her  and  went  to  the  kitchen  to  prepare 
supper. 

The  day  after  Kingsley  Dodd's  presentation  Nannie  paid  a 
visit  to  her  mother. 

"Lucy,  your  grandmother  wants  you  to  go  over  and  see  her 
in  the  morning,"  Nannie  announced  on  her  return. 

"All  right,  Mamma,"  Lucy  acceded  without  hesitation. 

The  following  morning  Lucy  made  her  appearance  at  the 
Sheldon  home  with  her  customary  punctuality. 

"Well,  well,  it's  a  long  time  since  my  grandbaby  came  to 
see  me,"  began  Mrs.  Lockhart  kindly  as  Lucy  entered  the 
library  where  she  sat  tatting. 

"It's  been  a  long  time  since  I  was  asked,"  Lucy  answered 
simply. 

"Yes,  of  course,"  agreed  her  grandmother  hastily.  "I 
haven't  a  home  of  my  own,  as  you  know,  Lucy,  and  can't  al- 
ways do  as  I  would  like  to." 

Lucy  did  not  reply  to  this  but  continued  to  regard  her 
grandmother  expectantly. 

"You  remember  what  I  said  yesterday?"  resumed  Mrs. 
Lockhart  briskly.  "Well,  we've  begun  to  make  the  arrange- 
ments for  a  little  dance  in  your  honor.  It's  high  time  you 
were  introduced  to  society." 

"I  don't  know  whom  you  want  to  introduce  me  to,  Grand- 
mamma. Everybody  in  town  knows  me  already." 

"Oh,  you  know  what  I  mean,  Lucy.  You  ought  to  take 
your  place  as  a  young  lady,  and  this  is  the  nicest  way  to  do  it." 

"Thank  you,  Grandmamma,  but  I'd  rather  not  have  the 
dance." 

"Stuff  and  nonsense!  I  never  saw  a  young  girl  yet  who 
didn't  love  parties  and  attentions.  We'll  consider  it  all  set- 
tled then." 

"No,  we  won't,  Grandmamma.  I  am  not  going  to  have  a 
party  of  any  kind." 

"Lucy,  you're  crazy,  my  child.  Why  people  will  think 
you're  queer.  I've  already  told  several  people  of  our  plans." 


BLIND    MICE  51 

"I  don't  dance,  Grandmamma." 

"What?  Well,  Nannie  must  have  paid  lots  of  attention  to 
your  education !  I'll  have  a  little  talk  with  her.  The  idea  of 
a  young  lady  who  can't  dance !  Well,  we'll  have  a  little  bridge 
party  then." 

"I  don't  play  bridge,  either." 

"Don't  play  bridge !"  Mrs.  Lockhart  eyed  her  granddaugh- 
ter quizzically.  "Then  we'll  have  just  an  old  fashioned  party," 
she  said  at  length. 

"Thank  you,  Grandmamma,  but  I  don't  want  the  party," 
reiterated  Lucy. 

"I  really  believe  you  don't,"  admitted  Mrs.  Lockhart  with  a 
grim  smile,  "but  we'll  have  it  anyway.  What  night  next  week 
shall  we  decide  on?" 

"I  don't  want  to  seem  ungrateful,  Grandmamma,  but  I'm 
not  coming  to  any  party." 

Mrs.  Lockhart  stared  at  Lucy  only  to  encounter  a  gaze  as 
firm  as  her  own. 

"Very  well,  Lucy,"  she  said  at  last  in  an  icy  tone.  "I  had 
intended  to  do  a  great  many  things  for  you,  but  if  you  want 
to  throw  away  your  chances  like  this  I  can  do  nothing.  You 
evidently  don't  want  either  friends  or  relations.  You  must 
excuse  me  now  as  I'm  going  out."  And  Mrs.  Lockhart  rose 
and  left  the  room. 

Lucy  made  her  way  through  the  hall  alone  and  went  into 
the  street. 

Thursday  evening  came  and  Kingsley  Dodd  appeared  very 
promptly.  The  day  had  been  rainy  and  the  remaining  clouds 
were  tinged  crimson  by  the  setting  sun.  The  windows  of  the 
Merwents'  house  were  open  and  as  the  visitor  went  up  the 
walk  he  saw  Lucy  lighting  the  gas  jets  in  the  parlor.  She 
was  the  only  one  ready  to  receive  him,  for  Nannie  had  not 
yet  completed  her  careful  toilette  and  Arthur  was  away  from 
home,  being  engaged  on  a  legal  case  out  of  town. 

Nannie  soon  descended  the  stairs,  however,  and  the  three 
sat  down  to  supper.  During  the  meal  she  and  young  Dodd 
became  such  friends  that  it  was  with  an  obvious  effort  that 
she  excused  herself,  when  they  had  risen  from  the  table,  and 


52  BLIND    MICE 

returned  to  her  bedroom,  leaving  the  young  people  together. 

"We're  going  to  have  an  all-day  picnic  out  at  Dad's  country 
place  next  Saturday,"  Dodd  observed,  after  some  ordinary 
conversation,  "and  I  want  you  to  come.  Your  grandmother 
and  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Mainter  and  Dad  and  Aunt  Sally  are 
going  to  be  the  chaperones,  and  we'll  have  a  great  time.  I'll 
come  around  with  a  single  buggy  and  my  bays  and  drive  you 
out.  The  rest  are  going  in  surreys  and  on  horseback.  We 
better  start  early  so  as  to " 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Dodd,"  Lucy  stopped  him,  "but  I  shan't 
be  able  to  go." 

"Why,  have  you  got  something  on  for  Saturday  ?"  he  asked. 
"Well,  I'll  have  the  thing  put  off  till  next  week." 

"No,  it's  not  another  engagement  but  I  can't  go  be- 
cause  " 

"Because  you  don't  like  picnics,"  he  laughed.  "All  right. 
We'll  get  up  something  at  the  house  here  in  town.  What  shall 
it  be?" 

Lucy  opened  her  lips  to  speak,  but  hesitated.  At  the  same 
instant  a  gust  of  wind  blew  through  the  room  and  one  of  the 
window  curtains  fluttered  out  and  threatened  to  overturn  some 
ornaments  on  a  nearby  table.  She  hastened  to  secure  the 
drapery. 

"Let  me  fix  it!"  he  offered,  starting  toward  her.  Lucy 
turned  to  face  him  as  he  reached  her  side. 

"It's  fixed,  thank  you,"  she  began,  then  hesitated,  flushing 
painfully.  "Mr.  Dodd,"  she  met  his  eyes  steadily,  "I  know 
you  mean  to  be  nice  in  giving  me  the  picnic,  and  coming  here 
to  see  me,  and  all  that.  We  are  glad  to  have  you  and  I  hope 
we  shall  always  be  friends,  but  Grandmamma  is  trying  to 
throw  us  at  each  other's  heads,  and  I  won't  have  it!" 

Kingsley  stared  at  her  a  moment.    His  glance  fell. 

"I  couldn't  help  it,"  she  resumed,  finally.  "I  had  to  say 
it.  I  hope  we  will  be  friends,  but  if  you  are  angry  I  can't 
help  that  either." 

"I  guess  I'd  better  go."  Kingsley's  face  was  a  dull  brick 
red.  Lucy  stood  in  the  same  place  while  he  took  his  hat  from 
the  hall  tree,  and  she  did  not  move  until  the  front  door  had 
closed  behind  him. 


BLIND    MICE  53 

"Lucy!  Lucy!"  Nannie  called  almost  instantly,  as  she 
leaned  over  the  stair  rail  in  the  upper  hall,  "Are  you  and 
Mr.  Dodd  going  out  ?" 

"He's  gone,"  Lucy  announced,  coming  out  of  the  parlor  and 
looking  up  into  her  mother's  anxious  face. 

"Why,  what  in  the  world's  the  matter?"  Nannie  asked 
agitatedly,  descending  the  stairs  as  she  spoke. 

"Nothing's  the  matter,  Mamma,  except  that  I  don't  intend 
to  let  you  and  Grandmamma  dispose  of  me  as  though  I  were 
an  animal." 

"Did  you  say  such  an  awful  thing  to  Kingsley?"  gasped 
Nannie,  wringing  her  hands. 

"Not  exactly,"  replied  Lucy,  almost  smiling  in  spite  of  her- 
self. "I  told  him  we  were  being  thrown  at  each  other  and  I 
wouldn't  permit  it." 

"Why,  how  could  you  say  such  a  thing  as  that !"  she  pro- 
tested. "Was  he  mad?"  Then,  before  Lucy  could  answer, 
"Why  couldn't  you  have  waited  till  you  saw  whether  you  liked 
him  or  not?" 

"I  don't  need  to  wait,  Mamma." 

"But,  Lucy,  there  are  other  things  to  be  considered." 

"No,  there  aren't,  Mamma." 

Nannie's  tone  changed. 

"Well,  I  think  you  might  consider  me  a  little  at  any  rate!" 

Lucy  eyed  her  mother  squarely. 

"I  don't,  Mamma — not  in  this  matter.  I'm  willing  to 
work  for  you." 

"You  are  certainly  an  ungrateful  child,  Lucy!"  Lucy 
winced.  "Nobody  knows  what  I  sacrificed  when  I  married 
your  father.  He  has  done  nothing  and  nobody  pays  any  at- 
tention to  him.  His  father  died  with  everything  in  a  muddle 
and  he's  never  made  anything  for  himself.  All  the  society 
or  notice  I  get  is  through  my  own  people,  and  now  when  they 
are  disposed  to  take  you  up,  and  give  us  a  chance  to  be  some- 
body, you  won't  even  look  at  one  of  their  friends !  I  should 
think  you  would  be  glad  of  the  chance  to  help  your  family. 
You  would  if  you  had  any  feelings  at  all !" 

Lucy  was  white.  Without  answering  she  walked  past  her 
mother  and  went  upstairs  to  her  room. 


VII 

Late  on  the  night  of  Kingsley  Dodd's  visit  Arthur  returned 
from  his  trip,  and  the  next  morning  he  had  only  time  for  a 
hasty  greeting  to  his  family  before  leaving  to  keep  an  early 
appointment  with  the  out-of-town  client  who  engaged  his 
services  at  the  moment.  An  hour  after  his  departure  Lucy 
appeared  in  the  hall  with  her  hat  on  and  her  gloves  and  sun- 
shade in  her  hand. 

"Where  are  you  going,  Lucy?"  Nannie  demanded. 

"I'm  going  to  Papa's  office,"  replied  Lucy  as  she  passed  out 
the  door. 

When  Lucy  reached  her  father's  place  of  business  she  found 
Mr.  Merwent  alone.  As  his  daughter  entered  he  was  read- 
ing a  letter.  He  put  it  into  a  drawer  in  his  desk  and  turned 
the  lock. 

"Well,  Lucy?"  He  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  smiled  his 
slow  smile  as  he  spoke. 

She  gazed  around  on  the  dingy  furniture,  the  old  books,  the 
discolored  steel  engravings,  the  dusty  floor,  and  other  signals 
of  her  father's  run-down  law  practice.  Her  heart  almost 
failed  her,  but  the  memory  of  the  preceding  day  rushed  back 
upon  her. 

"Papa,"  she  began,  "I  want  to  earn  my  own  living." 

Her  father  scrutinized  her  face  kindly. 

"I  don't  blame  you,  speaking  in  general,"  he  observed,  "but 
why  have  you  so  suddenly  decided  it?" 

"Mamma  and  Grandmamma  are  trying  to  marry  me  to 
Kingsley  Dodd  in  spite  of  myself,  and  Mamma  thinks  I  am 
ungrateful  because  I  object.  I  don't  think  I  ought  to  be  de- 
pendent on  any  one  any  longer." 

"You  seem  to  have  all  the  self  respect  in  the  family,  Lucy," 
Mr.  Merwent  commented,  "but  what  can  you  do  ?" 

"I  can  learn  book  binding,"  she  responded  without  hesita- 
tion. "The  pay  for  fine  tooled  hand  binding  is  good.  Mamie 

54 


BLIND    MICE  55 

Willis,  who  used  to  be  in  my  class  at  high  school,  has  been 
to  Chicago  Art  School  to  learn  it.  I  think  I  should  like  to  go 
there.  I  want  to  go  right  away." 

"Let  me  think,  Daughter,"  he  said  meditatively.  "I  have 
a  friend  I  should  like  to  consult  about  it.  It  is  very  possible 
that  it  may  be  the  best  thing.  We'll  talk  it  over  again  tomor- 
row. Come  down  here  about  this  time  and  we'll  decide." 

Lucy  kissed  her  father,  amazed  at  his  complaisance. 

"I  wonder  who  the  friend  he  spoke  of  is,"  she  said  to  her- 
self as  she  went  back  to  the  house.  "Papa'll  probably  have 
to  borrow  money  of  him  to  send  me  away." 

The  following  day  Mrs.  Merwent  preserved  an  air  of  gentle 
sadness  and  grief,  replying  softly  to  her  daughter's  remarks 
but  avoiding  any  reference  to  what  had  happened.  When 
Lucy  went  out  a  little  before  the  hour  appointed  for  the  con- 
ference at  the  office,  Nannie  did  not  ask  her  errand,  but  re- 
turned the  girl's  kiss  and  volunteered  statement  that  she 
would  not  be  gone  long,  with  a  look  of  patient  melancholy. 

"Well,  it  is  all  arranged,"  were  Arthur's  first  words,  as  he 
greeted  Lucy.  "You  are  to  go  to  Chicago  where  I  have 
planned  for  you  to  stay  with  the  relative  of  a  friend.  We 
agree — that  is,  I  agree  that  you  couldn't  do  better  than  go  to 
the  Art  School,  as  it  is  a  recognized  institution  and  the 
courses  are  reliable." 

"Oh,  Papa,  thank  you  so  much !" 

"The  thanks  are  due  to  someone  else,  Lucy,  and  I  hope 
some  day  you  can  thank  the  friend  who  has  made  it  possible." 

"Who  is  it,  Papa  ?    Is  it  someone  I  know  ?" 

Mr.  Merwent  looked  at  her  a  moment  before  replying. 

"It's  a  woman  friend,  Lucy,  Mrs.  Ellen  Low." 

He  continued  to  regard  his  daughter.  Lucy's  face  turned 
pink. 

"I  didn't  know  you  knew  her,  Papa,"  she  said. 

Mr.  Merwent,  though  he  did  not  take  his  eyes  from  the 
young  girl's,  seemed,  in  his  turn,  somewhat  embarrassed. 

"Yes,  I've  known  her  quite  a  while.  When  her  husband 
died  I  was  retained  with  Mr.  Blair  to  settle  up  the  estate," 
he  answered. 

"Oh !"    Lucy  relapsed  into  thoughtful  silence. 


56  BLIND    MICE 

She  knew  Mrs.  Low  by  sight  and  in  spite  of  herself  rather 
liked  the  pleasant  homely  face  with  its  strongly  marked  fea- 
tures, though  she  had,  almost  against  her  will,  absorbed  some 
of  the  prejudiced  tone  in  which  she  had  heard  her  mother  and 
grandmother  make  occasional  references  to  the  woman. 

Mrs.  Low  was  the  widow  of  a  handsome  man,  who  had 
been  very  fond  of  the  ladies,  and  she  had  not  lived  happily 
with  him.  She  appeared,  in  a  whimsical  way,  to  hold  men  in 
little  awe.  The  unpopularity  of  her  outspoken  manner,  which 
voiced  a  point  of  view  that  Russellville  found  unbecoming 
in  a  lady,  had  sent  her  to  seek  a  more  congenial  atmosphere 
with  relatives  in  Chicago.  However,  she  continued  to  spend 
several  months  of  each  year  in  her  native  town. 

"I  expect  you  have  accepted  the  family's  hostility  to  Mrs. 
Low,  Lucy,"  Arthur  went  on  after  a  minute. 

"I've  hardly  ever  heard  Mamma  speak  of  her,"  Lucy  re- 
turned, her  glance  drooping  before  the  bitter,  slightly  amused 
expression  that  crept  into  her  father's  face. 

"Mrs.  Low  is  too  big  a  woman  for  her  environment.  She's 
got  too  much  self  respect  to  be  understood  by  the  people  in 
this  place.  It's  because  she's  too  big-hearted  to  be  prudent, 
she's  let  herself  be  unpleasantly  criticised!"  Mr.  Merwent's 
manner  was  warm. 

Lucy,  surprised  at  her  father's  outburst,  stared  at  him  in 
silence,  her  lips  slightly  parted.  He  rose  from  his  chair  and 
walked  over  to  the  open  window.  He  stood  there  for  a 
moment  with  his  back  turned,  and  when  he  finally  reseated 
himself  he  appeared  as  self-contained  and  emotionless  as 
usual. 

"Are — are  the  people  you  want  me  to  stay  with  Mrs.  Low's 
friends?"  Lucy  paused,  once  more  embarrassed  by  her 
father's  calm  scrutiny. 

"Her  cousin,  Miss  Storms,"  he  explained.  "She  is  very 
well  known  in  Chicago  and  could  do  a  lot  for  you,  we  think." 
This  time  he  used  the  plural  pronoun  without  hesitation. 
"You  haven't  told  your  mother  anything  about  this  yet  ?" 

"No,  Papa,  I'm  afraid  Mamma  won't  like  it." 

"So  am  I,  Daughter.  We'll  have  to  talk  it  over  with  her  to- 
night." 

Lucy  looked  troubled. 


BLIND    MICE  '57 

"I'm  afraid  she  won't  consent." 

"Yes,  she  will.  You  go  on  back  now,  and  we'll  see  after 
supper." 

Lucy  was  very  thoughtful  as  she  walked  home.  She  had 
been  much  astonished  to  learn  that  Mrs.  Low  and  her  father 
were  acquainted. 

"Lucy  is  going  to  Chicago  to  school,"  Mr.  Merwent  an- 
nounced that  night  without  preamble,  toward  the  end  of  the 
evening  meal. 

Nannie  looked  up  from  her  plate  with  a  startled  expres- 
sion. 

"What  in  the  world  are  you  talking  about,  Arthur?" 

"About  Lucy  going  away  to  school,  as  my  words  implied," 
returned  Mr.  Merwent. 

"But  who  said  Lucy  was  going  away?"  insisted  Nannie. 

"I  did,"  responded  her  husband  shortly. 

"Lucy,  what  is  all  this  about?"  asked  Nannie,  appealing  to 
her  daughter. 

"It's  about  Lucy  going  away  to  school.  Do  you  think  you 
can  manage  to  understand  or  shall  I  repeat  it  a  few  more 
times?"  interrupted  Arthur  almost  menacingly. 

Nannie  studied  the  face  of  her  long  silent  husband  and 
read  in  it  something  that  experience  taught  her  to  be  the  signal 
of  an  occasion  when  tears,  arguments,  and  tantrums  would 
avail  nothing.  She  rose  suddenly  and  left  the  table  and  not 
long  after  they  heard  the  front  door  close  as  she  went  out. 

"A  council  of  war,"  remarked  Arthur  with  a  wry  smile. 

Lucy  shut  herself  in  her  room  and  cried. 

About  nine  o'clock  Nannie  returned  from  the  "big  house"  as 
the  Sheldon  home  was  called,  where  she  had  received  neither 
comfort  nor  suggestion. 

"Don't  ask  me  to  take  over  the  management  of  your  hus- 
band too,  Nannie!"  Mrs.  Lockhart  had  exclaimed  with 
asperity.  "Any  effort  to  help  you  is  wasted  because  you  make 
no  attempt  to  cooperate."  And  Nannie  had  left  in  tears. 

When  it  became  apparent  that  both  Arthur  and  her  daugh- 
ter must  be  taken  at  their  word,  curiosity  got  the  better  of  the 
secret  resolve  Nannie  had  made  to  show  no  interest  in  the 
matter  of  Lucy's  future. 

"Of  course  it's  none  of  my  business,  Lucy,  but  I  should 


58  BLIND    MICE 

think  you  and  your  father  would  at  least  tell  me  where  you 
are  going  to  stay  when  you  get  to  Chicago.  You  don't  know  a 
soul  there  and  you've  never  been  away  from  home  in  your 
life." 

"I  told  you  I  was  going  to  stay  with  Miss  Storms,"  replied 
Lucy,  repeating  information  she  had  previously  offered,  to 
which  Nannie,  being  in  a  temper  at  the  time,  had  refused  to 
listen.  "She  is  the  friend  of  somebody  Papa  knows,"  Lucy 
hesitated  and  flushed,  "and  he  wrote  and  asked  her  if  she'd 
take  me." 

"I  don't  know  what  your  father  is  thinking  about  to  let  you 
go  off  like  this  to  people  he  knows  nothing  of.  She  may  be  as 
common  as  dirt  for  all  we  know.  I'd  like  to  find  out  who  the 
mutual  friend  is.  I  notice  he  don't  mention  his  name,"  Nan- 
nie finished  with  a  sneering  intonation. 

Lucy,  her  cheeks  still  scarlet,  glanced  away  but  said  nothing. 

During  the  days  in  which  Lucy  was  preparing  for  de- 
parture Nannie  relapsed  into  tearful  silence  and  repelled  her 
daughter's  advances  and  demonstrations  until  the  girl,  still 
not  much  more  than  a  child  in  experience,  was  almost  ill  and 
about  to  relinquish  her  plan. 

At  this  point  a  note  came  from  Mrs.  Lockhart  which 
spurred  Nannie  to  more  decisive  speech. 

"I  want  to  tell  you  something,"  she  announced,  calling  Lucy 
to  her.  "You  had  better  think  carefully  before  you  leave  home 
for  if  you  go  you  can't  come  back  here!  It  will  be  final." 

"But,  Mamma,  Papa "  Lucy  began. 

"This  is  my  final  decision,"  interrupted  Nannie  in  a  manner 
almost  ludicrously  like  Mrs.  Lockhart's. 

"Very  well,  Mamma,"  replied  Lucy,  hardly  able  to  keep 
back  the  tears,  and  choking  with  a  sense  of  injustice. 

Arthur  came  in  at  this  juncture. 

"What's  this,  Anna  ?"  he  inquired  peremptorily. 

Nannie  was  silent  and  avoided  his  gaze.  He  turned  to 
Lucy  who  told  him  what  had  taken  place. 

"My  child  shall  come  to  my  home  as  often  and  as  long  as 
she  pleases,"  he  declared.  "Lucy,  come  upstairs.  I  want  to 
talk  with  you." 


BLIND    MICE  59 

The  father  and  daughter  left  the  room  together. 

Aunt  Martha  had  been  called  in  to  help  with  the  arrange- 
ments for  Lucy's  departure.  Nannie  heard  the  old  negress's 
voice,  then  the  voices  of  Arthur  and  Lucy,  and  the  sound  of 
a  trunk  being  moved.  Shut  in  her  own  room  she  was  con- 
scious of  the  feet  that  hurried  past  her  door  and  the  general 
bustle  of  packing  for  a  journey.  When  there  was  no  one 
about  she  stepped  into  the  hall  and  listened.  She  convinced 
herself  that  Lucy  would  not  really  take  this  step  but  that  the 
appearance  of  unusual  preparation  was  arranged  to  deceive 
and  punish  her. 

After  a  time,  the  father  and  daughter  went  out,  Lucy  lock- 
ing her  door.  Aunt  Martha  went  home  at  the  same  time. 
Nannie,  from  a  window,  watched  them  until  they  were  out  of 
sight  and,  notwithstanding  her  determination  to  discredit  all 
evidences  of  Lucy's  decision,  began  to  feel  very  forlorn. 

She  prepared  herself  some  luncheon,  eating  as  heartily  as 
usual,  but  she  was  convinced  that  she  was  heartbroken.  She 
was  indeed  bothered  by  the  uncertainty  and,  most  of  all,  by 
the  fact  that  her  daughter  and  husband  were  together. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  Lucy  and  her  father  returned  with  a 
number  of  packages. 

"Where  did  he  get  the  money  to  buy  all  those  things?  I 
wonder  what  they  are  ?"  Nannie  said  to  herself. 

She  could  hear  the  murmur  of  their  voices  in  Lucy's  room 
as  they  opened  the  packages  and  arranged  the  contents  of  the 
trunk  and  valises.  When  Lucy  descended  to  the  kitchen  to 
prepare  supper  Nannie  tip-toed  to  the  open  door  of  the  bed- 
room and  peered  in  at  the  still  scattered  belongings  of  her 
daughter.  She  saw  a  pair  of  new  shoes  and  an  unfamiliar 
hat  which  were  a  concrete  affirmation  of  all  that  she  had 
tried  to  deny. 

"Lucy  leaves  in  the  morning  on  the  nine  fifteen,"  volun- 
teered Arthur  when  the  three  were  seated  at  their  evening 
meal. 

Nannie  was  speechless.  She  gave  him  one  scathing  look  and 
fled  to  her  room. 

Lucy  followed  her  and  knocked  but  Nannie  would  not  open 
the  door.  She  could  be  heard  sobbing.  What  disturbed 


60  BLIND   MICE 

the  girl  was  that  the  supper  she  carried  up  on  a  tray  and 
left  outside  her  mother's  door  was  not  eaten.  At  bed  time 
Nannie  had  not  appeared.  Lucy  kissed  her  father  good  night, 
but  when  she  lay  down  she  could  not  sleep. 

When  Arthur  and  Lucy  were  eating  breakfast  the  next 
morning  an  expressman  came  for  the  trunk.  Nannie  had  not 
yet  descended  to  the  dining  room  and  still  refused  to  open  her 
door  though  Lucy  had  been  to  her  several  times  and  asked  for 
admittance.  When  Mrs.  Merwent  saw  the  baggage  carried 
away,  however,  her  tragic  resolution  was  broken,  and,  after 
hesitating  at  the  head  of  the  stairs,  she  composed  her  face  to 
what  seemed  an  appropriate  expression  of  her  state  of  mind 
and  went  down. 

It  was  a  beautiful  late  summer  morning.  The  lawn  was 
visible  through  the  half  open  front  door.  The  grass  was 
parched,  and  the  vines  on  the  porch  were  beginning  to  turn 
yellow.  There  was  a  tinge  of  autumn  crispness  in  the  air,  but 
the  sunshine  that  flooded  the  hall  was  golden. 

Lucy  came  out  of  the  dining  room  and  laid  her  gloves,  coat, 
and  a  little  hand  bag  on  the  hat  stand.  She  had  on  the  new 
hat,  which  was  very  becoming,  and  wore  a  new  blue  serge 
frock.  She  was  excited  by  the  unusual  prospect  of  a  journey 
and  looked  exceptionally  pretty. 

"Lucy!"  Nannie  began  in  an  ominous  voice.  The  girl,  a 
little  startled,  turned  to  face  her  mother. 

Mrs.  Merwent  wore  a  soiled  lace  negligee.  Her  hair  hung 
down  her  back,  loose  and  uncombed.  Her  habitual  precau- 
tions to  ward  off  wrinkles  and  retain  her  good  looks  had  been 
neglected.  She  seemed  much  older  than  on  the  previous  day 
when  Lucy  had  seen  her  carefully  dressed,  rouged  and  with 
well  ordered  hair. 

"You  wicked,  selfish,  cruel  girl!"  continued  Xannie  in  high 
pitched  strident  tones.  "You  mean,  hard  hearted,  wretched 
beast!"  She  suddenly  advanced  toward  Lucy  who  retreated 
in  frightened  astonishment. 

Arthur  appeared  in  the  hall  doorway. 

"That  is  enough!"  he  said  sternly. 

Nannie  suddenly  lost  all  self  control. 


BLIND    MICE  61 

"Get  out  of  my  house !"  she  screamed.  "You  stinking !" 

and  a  stream  of  awful  invectives  that  seemed  from  a  brothel 
poured  from  her  lips.  She  picked  up  Lucy's  belongings  from 
the  hat  stand  and  threw  them  against  the  front  door  where 
they  fell  on  the  threshold. 

"Anna !"  Arthur  spoke  calmly,  but  he  only  succeeded  in 
evoking  another  paroxysm  of  screams  and  vile  words  di- 
rected at  himself. 

"Put  your  things  on,  Lucy,"  he  said,  and  in  a  moment  the 
two  fairly  fled  into  the  street,  leaving  Nannie  in  a  state  of 
hysteria  bordering  on  madness. 

"I  can't  go  on  this  way,  Papa!"  exclaimed  Lucy,  looking 
back  at  the  house  after  they  had  walked  half  a  block. 

"All  right.  Do  as  you  wish,"  he  responded  without  emotion. 

"Yes,  it's  better  that  I  should  go,"  she  decided  as  if  to  her- 
self, and  they  did  not  speak  again  until  they  reached  the  sta- 
tion. 

As  they  stood  waiting  for  the  train  Lucy  studied  Arthur's 
set  face  furtively. 

"I  don't  want  my  going  to  make  more  trouble  between  you 
and  Mamma,"  she  ventured  at  last,  timidly. 

Arthur's  eyes  sought  hers  slowly. 

"Don't  worry,"  he  replied  heavily  in  his  deep  voice.  "What 
you  saw  today  is  only  a  fair  sample  of  what  I've  enjoyed  for 
years.  In  the  beginning  I  used  to  hold  a  quarter  of  an  hour's 
argument  to  get  two  minutes'  peace.  Then  I  quit  that  and  she 
tried  to  punish  me  with  long  periods  of  curdled  gloom. 
Finally  I  took  to  staying  away  from  the  house  in  self  de- 
fense. Long  before  you  grew  up  things  were  as  bad  as  they 
could  be,  so  don't  blame  yourself,  Daughter.  You  have  had 
nothing  to  do  with  it." 

Lucy  was  surprised  by  this  unprecedentedly  long  speech. 

"Don't  you  think  that  maybe  when  I'm  gone  you  and 
Mamma "  she  did  not  know  how  to  proceed. 

"I  wouldn't  ask  her  for  a  drink  of  water  if  I  were  dying," 
Arthur  answered.  Lucy  had  never  heard  such  suppressed 
hatred  and  vehemence  in  his  tone.  "There's  the  train,"  he 
added  in  his  ordinary  manner,  and  they  moved  toward  the 
platform. 


62  BLIND    MICE 

"Here  are  your  tickets,  and  here  is  your  money,"  explained 
Arthur  as  they  entered  the  Pullman.  "Miss  Storms  will  meet 
you.  She  will  wear  a  bunch  of  white  carnations.  Here  is  a 
white  carnation  for  you  to  wear.  Miss  Storms  knows  all 
about  your  plans."  He  removed  a  flower  that  was  in  his  but- 
ton hole  and  Lucy  fastened  it  on  her  jacket.  They  kissed. 
The  train  began  to  move. 

"Good-bye,  Daughter.  Write  often.  I  will  try  to  get  up 
there  to  see  you  soon,"  he  called. 

The  journey  began. 

It  was  late  at  night  and  rain  was  falling  when  Lucy  ar- 
rived in  Chicago.  Leaving  the  train  she  was  bewildered  by 
the  people,  noises,  and  bustle  about  her.  '  As  she  stood  look- 
ing around  the  thronged  platform  misted  by  the  radiance  of 
many  lights,  a  very  tall  woman,  dressed  in  a  grey  linen  tailored 
suit  with  a  grey  hat,  and  holding  some  white  carnations  in 
her  hand,  came  up  and  spoke. 

"I  think  you  are  Lucy." 

"Are  you  Miss  Storms  ?" 

"I  am.    Where  are  your  baggage  checks,  dear?" 

Lucy  handed  over  her  single  check  and  pointed  out  her 
smaller  baggage  which  Miss  Storms  entrusted  to  a  leather 
coated  chauffeur.  In  a  few  minutes  Lucy  found  herself  in  a 
luxurious  limousine  gliding  through  the  crowded  streets  of  the 
city. 

A  few  evenings  later,  at  a  small  dinner  to  which  Miss 
Storms  had  invited  some  young  people  of  her  acquaintance, 
Lucy  found  herself  between  a  red  haired  girl  and  a  fresh  faced 
young  man,  both  from  the  Art  School. 

"Lucy,  this  is  Nora  Stimpson,"  began  Miss  Storms,  and 
Lucy  bowed  to  the  red  haired  girl.  "Your  right  hand  partner 
is  John  Winter,"  continued  Miss  Storms. 

Lucy,  following  Miss  Storms'  direction,  looked  into  the 
smiling  blue  eyes  of  John.  He  rose  and  reached  out  his  hand 
to  take  hers. 

Lucy's  romance  had  begun. 


VIII 

After  Lucy's  departure  the  Merwent  home  went  from  bad 
to  worse.  In  times  past  her  presence  had  often  sufficed  to 
prevent  the  more  sordid  expressions  of  the  disgust  and  con- 
tempt which  Arthur  felt  for  Nannie,  and  of  Nannie's  feel- 
ing of  fear  and  distrust  toward  him.  He  now  avoided  being 
at  home  alone  with  his  wife  until  he  became  almost  a  stranger 
in  the  house. 

The  scandal  loving  people  of  Russellville,  like  the  inhabi- 
tants of  all  small  towns  when  similar  opportunity  is  afforded, 
began  to  talk,  and  Arthur's  name  was  linked  with  that  of  Mrs. 
Low.  This,  in  time,  came  to  Nannie's  ears. 

Arthur's  law  practice,  now  that  he  was  put  to  extra  ex- 
pense for  Lucy's  maintenance  and  education,  barely  supported 
the  family,  and  Nannie  began  to  feel  the  pinch  of  poverty 
more  keenly,  especially  in  the  matter  of  her  wardrobe.  Mrs. 
Lockhart  was  bitter  toward  her  daughter  and  made  no  ef- 
fort toward  consolation.  In  short,  Nannie  felt  herself  hardly 
used  by  the  world. 

She  exerted  all  her  ingenuity,  however,  in  making  an  ap- 
pearance that  belied  her  pocket  book,  and  achieved  a  certain 
amount  of  success. 

"You  could  turn  a  good  many  pennies  dressmaking,  if  you 
only  had  horse  sense,  Anna.  Minnie  could  get  you  work 
among  her  friends.  She  could  put  it  to  them  that  it  was  a 
kind  of  favor,  and  if  you'd  keep  your  mouth  shut  nobody 
would  be  the  worse  for  it,"  remarked  Mrs.  Lockhart  one  day, 
eyeing  one  of  Nannie's  costumes  with  reluctant  approval. 

But  Nannie  was  very  much  hurt  by  such  a  suggestion.  She 
had  no  desire  to  use  her  arts  to  teach  other  and  more  pros- 
perous women  to  dress  becomingly. 

It  was  evident,  nevertheless,  that  something  must  be  done 
to  supplement  Arthur's  earnings.  She  still  attended  social 
events  at  the  "big  house"  as  often  as  she  could  squeeze  an  in- 

63 


64  BLIND    MICE 

vitation  from  "Cousin  Minnie,"  and  it  was  to  "Cousin  Min- 
nie's" influence,  rather  languidly  exerted  in  her  behalf,  that 
she  applied  for  a  solution  of  her  problem. 

It  came  in  the  shape  of  a  position  in  a  small  private  school 
in  Russellville. 

The  school,  which  had  existed  precariously  for  several  gen- 
erations, was  usually  referred  to  as  "The  Academy."  A  short 
while  previously  it  had  appeared  to  be  almost  moribund,  but 
it  had  lately  been  taken  over  by  one  Mr.  Walsh,  called  "Profes- 
sor Walsh,"  though  he  held  no  degree  or  official  position ;  and 
it  had,  for  the  time  being  at  least,  awakened  to  unwonted  pat- 
ronage. 

Though  Professor  Walsh  was  from  a  nearby  town,  no  one 
seemed  to  know  much  of  his  antecedents.  He  was  a  large 
slow-spoken  man  with  a  low-pitched  pleasant  voice.  He  had 
fat  features  and  was  rather  pale.  His  hair,  parted  in  the  mid- 
dle, was  wetly  and  thinly  combed  over  a  glistening  scalp.  He 
had  thick  curveless  lips.  His  eyes  were  a  nondescript  blue 
and  he  wore  nose  glasses  which  glittered  inscrutably. 

He  had  an  air  of  decorum  and  responsibility,  and  his  smile, 
which  displayed  double  rows  of  perfect  teeth,  was  full  of 
warmth  and  condescension.  He  was  peculiarly  apt  as  a  list- 
ener, showed  a  subdued  but  flattering  appreciation  of  the 
broad  talk  of  men,  and  was  earnestly  sympathetic,  though 
somewhat  noncommittal,  when  he  gave  ear  to  the  ladies. 

His  personality  was  such  that  he  impressed  one,  in  his 
genial  restraint,  as  being  responsible  for  the  group. 

He  Was  enough  of  an  enigma  to  overawe  people  and  ac- 
quired the  reputation  of  being  learned.  The  teachers  in  the 
school  were  afraid  of  him.  By  patronizing  some  and  snub- 
bing others,  and  by  frequent  vague  allusions  to  distinguished 
acquaintances  and  remote  but  exalted  relations,  the  Professor 
forced  the  first  families  of  Russellville,  so  styled  by  them- 
selves, into  receiving  him.  At  the  institution  over  which  he 
presided  Nannie  gave  piano  lessons  to  the  younger  pupils. 
She  rather  enjoyed  than  disliked  her  task,  for  her  position 
allowed  her  to  remind  Arthur  that  he  could  not  support  her, 
and  besides  Professor  Walsh  soon  became  interested  in  her 
and  was,  as  she  told  herself,  exceedingly  kind  and  sympathetic. 


BLIND    MICE  65 

She  also  found  it  pleasant  to  meet  the  grown  boys,  or 
"young  gentlemen,"  as  they  were  called,  who  attended  some 
of  the  higher  classes.  Professor  Walsh  left  her  little  op- 
portunity to  talk  with  these  youths  but  their  presence  lent  a 
piquancy  to  his  attentions. 

She  was  rather  afraid  of  him,  but  the  envy  with  which 
the  teachers  looked  on  such  signal  favor  as  she  received  from 
this  august  person  reconciled  her  to  those  things  in  his 
make-up  which  she  found  incomprehensible.  She  was  further 
led  to  encourage  his  attentions  by  the  fact  that  there  was  no 
one  to  contest  with  him  the  role  of  exclusive  admirer. 

Professor  Walsh,  being  of  ambiguous  antecedents,  realized 
fully  the  advantages  of  a  connection  with  some  family  which 
exemplified  the  southern  tradition.  He  easily  perceived  that 
Nannie  Merwent  was  susceptible  to  influence,  and  he  hoped 
through  her  to  cement  an  alliance  with  the  Sheldons,  the  most 
prosperous  and  dictatory  citizens  of  Russellville. 

Professor  Walsh's  plans  were  not  laid  in  a  day;  but,  with- 
out her  realizing  it,  he  considered  each  circumstance  of  Nan- 
nie's life  as  she  presented  it  to  him,  and  decided  on  its  pos- 
sible relation  to  his  own  future. 

At  one  of  the  few  receptions  which  Arthur  had  felt  bound 
to  attend  in  Russellville,  he  met  Professor  Walsh. 

"I  am  honoured  to  know  you,  Mr.  Merwent,"  remarked  the 
educator  affably,  when  they  were  introduced.  "I  have  the 
deepest  admiration  for  your  profession.  A — ah — distant  con- 
nection of  mine — though  our  names  are  not  spelt  the  same — 
James  K.  Walshe  of  Chicago.  You  may  have  heard  of  him?" 

"Every  lawyer  knows  the  reputation  of  your  relative,  Mr. 
Walsh,"  replied  Arthur.  "In  criminal  cases  he  has  few 
equals." 

"In  case  you  ever  go  to  Chicago  I  shall  be  most  happy  to 
give  you  a  letter  of  introduction  to  him,"  offered  the  Professor. 

"Thank  you,"  returned  Arthur,  "I  hardly  think "  Then 

he  appeared  to  reconsider.  "It  is  true  that  I  shall  probably  go 
to  Chicago  in  the  near  future,  and  I  should  be  very  glad  to  go 
to  see  your  relative." 

"Well,  sir,  you  shall  have  the  letter."  The  Professor  com- 
pressed his  lips,  put  the  tips  of  his  fingers  together  and  re- 


66  BLIND    MICE 

garded  Arthur  curiously.     "Without  fail.     I  will  send  it  to 
your  office  tomorrow,"  he  added. 

"Thank  you,"  repeated  Arthur.    And  the  two  separated. 

Nannie,  on  one  of  the  rare  occasions  when  Arthur  was  at 
home,  sneeringly  alluded  to  his  attentions  to  Mrs.  Low. 

"You  will  kindly  not  interfere  with  the  conduct  of  my  per- 
sonal affairs  while  you  are  so  careless  of  your  own,"  he  re- 
quested in  a  tone  that  closed  the  conversation. 

A  few  days  later  the  gossips  of  Russellville  were  informing 
their  friends  that  Mrs.  Low  had  gone  to  Chicago  for  an  in- 
definite stay.  Nannie  at  once  wrote  furiously  to  Lucy  ac- 
cusing her  of  plotting  with  deliberate  intent  to  wreck  her 
mother's  life. 

Nannie's  accusations  were  so  obviously  ill  founded  that  the 
only  recourse  left  for  Lucy's  wounded  pride  was  silence,  and 
she  made  no  reply  to  a  succession  of  violently  worded  letters. 

Arthur  appreciated  in  part  the  difficult  situation  in  which 
his  daughter  was  placed,  and  did  his  best  to  prevent  her  being 
drawn  into  this  conflict.  It  was  not  long  after  Mrs.  Low's 
arrival  in  Chicago  that  Lucy  learned  that  her  father  was 
spending  most  of  his  time  in  the  state  capital,  where  he  was 
making  important  legal  affiliations.  In  this  way  Nannie,  left 
almost  entirely  to  herself,  began  to  depend  more  and  more 
on  the  benevolent  Professor,  who  showed  a  reserved  but 
unfailing  interest  in  her  affairs. 

He  had  a  way  of  regarding  her  enigmatically  through  his 
twinkling  glasses  that  made  her  always  a  little  afraid  of  him, 
but  he  was  also  always  able  to  impress  other  people,  and  her 
cautious  instincts  prompted  her  to  lean  toward  his  poise  and 
aplomb  while  her  vanity  still  further  urged  her  to  his  con- 
quest. Nannie  was  not  unaware  of  the  fact  that  the  town 
had  begun  to  comment  on  her  association  with  him  but  her 
terror  of  being  alone  was  greater  than  her  habit  of  caution. 

One  evening  after  leaving  school,  a  note  from  the  Professor 
was  delivered  to  her,  in  which  he  suggested  that  she  come  to 
the  school  building  that  night,  as  he  had  heard  some  rumors  of 
Arthur's  doings  which  he  thought  she  should  know. 

Nannie  dressed  herself  and  went  out  without  hesitation, 


BLIND   MICE  67 

but  she  was  careful  to  find  her  way  along  obscure  streets  and 
hoped  fervently  that  neither  "Cousin  Minnie"  nor  her  other 
relatives  would  hear  of  the  visit. 

The  Academy  was  a  large  old  fashioned  red  brick  building 
with  many  additions  and  one  wing  which  had  a  private  en- 
trance in  a  little-frequented  lane  where  the  Professor's  office 
was  situated. 

As  Nannie  came  up  the  walk  she  could  see  his  large  shadow 
as  he  bent  over  his  desk  between  the  window  and  the  light. 
She  rang  the  bell  at  the  side  door  and  he  himself  admitted 
her.  For  some  reason  which  she  could  not  explain  she  felt  at 
first  an  unusual  discomfort  in  his  presence,  and,  when  he  leaned 
forward  and  took  her  hand  in  a  kind  but  casual  manner,  her 
heart  gave  a  sudden  leap  and  she  glanced  up  at  him  suspi- 
ciously. However,  he  patted  her  shoulder  comfortingly,  and, 
as  he  repeated  to  her  in  a  low  tone  some  incidents  of  gossip 
about  Arthur  which  had  lately  come  to  his  ears,  she  was  com- 
pletely reassured.  She  was  certain  that  he  admired  her  tre- 
mendously, and  she  was  determining  in  her  heart  that  she 
would  use  his  devotion  as  a  weapon  of  defense  against  the  con- 
tinual disapprobation  of  "Cousin  Minnie." 

Professor  Walsh  talked  so  long  and  so  comfortingly  that 
Nannie  was  startled  when  she  looked  at  a  clock  on  his  book 
shelf  and  realized  that  she  had  allowed  herself  to  remain  un- 
til an  hour  which  Russellville  would  consider  scandalous. 
When  Professor  Walsh  offered  to  escort  her  home  she  pro- 
tested vehemently.  If  he  were  seen  walking  with  her  at  such 
a  time  it  might  rob  her  of  the  position  of  an  injured  party 
which  was  what  she  desired  the  world  to  permit  her  in  view 
of  Arthur's  neglect. 

It  was  a  terrible  moment  for  Nannie  when  she  had  told  the 
Professor  good  night  and  walked  into  the  street,  only  to  find 
herself  confronted  at  the  very  gate  by  a  strange  man  who 
stepped  up  to  her  with  an  air  of  quiet  determination  and  in- 
quired if  she  were  Mrs.  Merwent. 

"Y — yes,"  stammered  Nannie  doubtfully,  terror  clutching 
her  throat,  though  she  was  unable  to  conceive  of  what  was 
about  to  happen. 

"Why  yes,  this  is  Mrs.  Merwent,"  affirmed  a  brisk  mas- 


68  BLIND    MICE 

culine  voice  as,  from  the  deep  shadow  thrown  by  the  Academy 
walls,  Mr.  Blair,  Arthur's  colleague  in  several  law  cases,  step- 
ped out,  followed  by  Arthur  himself  and  another  strange  man. 

Nannie,  though  technically  guiltless  of  wrongdoing,  was  al- 
most in  a  state  of  collapse  and,  scarcely  knowing  what  she  did, 
agreed  to  cooperate  in  the  arrangements  Arthur  desired  for 
a  divorce. 

Only  once  during  the  conversation,  which  was  carefully 
listened  to  by  all  of  Arthur's  companions,  did  she  weakly  de- 
mur; whereupon  he  coldly  declared  he  would  bring  suit  on  a 
graver  charge,  would  not  shrink  from  publicity  and  would  use 
the  incident  of  the  night  to  prove  his  case,  as  the  two  men  un- 
known to  her  were  reputable  witnesses. 

Nannie  was  conquered. 

After  a  few  days  of  reflection,  however,  Mrs.  Merwent  per- 
suaded herself  that  her  husband  could  never  bring  himself  to 
the  point  of  taking  the  step  he  contemplated. 

The  scene  which  followed  the  actual  filing  of  Arthur's 
suit  for  divorce,  therefore,  was  no  worse  than  numerous  other 
scenes  to  which  she  had  treated  her  husband  at  frequent  in- 
tervals throughout  their  married  life,  many  of  them  pre- 
cipitated by  trifles. 

When  she  perceived  that  rage,  abuse,  and  sarcasms  all 
failed  to  affect  Arthur's  calm,  she  grew  really  frightened  and 
began  to  weep  hysterically. 

Arthur  gazed  at  her  still  unmoved. 

As  a  last  resort  she  referred  pathetically  to  their  life  to- 
gether. 

"You  can't  mean  that  you  will  carry  this  thing  through, 
Arthur!"  she  moaned.  "For  Lucy's  sake  you  can't  do  such 
awful  things." 

His  sudden  cold  fury  was  terrible. 

"For  Lucy's  sake,"  he  repeated  slowly  and  gratingly,  "af- 
ter you  have  driven  her  out  of  the  house  and  poisoned  her 
youth!  Yes,  it  would  be  highly  appropriate  for  us  to  stay 
together  for  Lucy's  sake." 

"Arthur,  I  can't  believe  that  you  hate  me  that  much !"  Nan- 
faie  pleaded.  "You  don't  hate  me,  do  you?" 


BLIND   MICE  69 

"I  can't  put  my  feelings  into  words,"  he  answered  merci- 
lessly. "You  poison  the  air.  I  wonder  the  flowers  don't  die 
as  you  pass  by."  His  tone  was  coldly  implacable  and  he  did 
not  raise  his  voice. 

She  gazed  at  him  an  instant  with  silent  and  helpless  ani- 
mosity. 

"You  cruel  monster !"  she  shrieked,  springing  suddenly  from 
her  chair. 

Arthur  turned  on  his  heel  and  went  out. 

Nannie's  first  act  following  this  interview  with  her  husband 
was  to  see  Professor  Walsh.  Since  Lucy's  rebellion  she  had 
grown  afraid  of  Mrs.  Lockhart's  comments  on  family  dif- 
ficulties. Nannie  felt  that  the  Professor's  accidental  role  in 
her  embarrassment  constituted  a  sort  of  obligation  on  his  part. 

Their  meetings  of  late  had  been  slightly  constrained.  But 
once  in  his  private  office  he  listened  gravely  and  kindly  to  her 
agitated  story. 

Without  much  having  been  said  on  either  side  Professor 
Walsh  had  understood  for  some  time  from  Mr.  Sheldon  that 
the  family  would  not  look  unkindly  on  the  prospect  of  some 
one  eventually  taking  Nannie  off  their  hands. 

"My  advice  is  that  you  do  not  contest  the  suit,"  he  said, 
when  she  had  finished,  "but  I  should  try  to  get  him  to  agree 
to  something  for  your  support  if  I  were  you,  Anna.  This 
could  be  done  amicably  and  out  of  court.  It  is  no  more  than 
right  that  he  should  do  something  for  you  financially." 

Nannie  had  not  noticed  that  he  called  her  by  her  given  name 
and  broke  in  with,  "But,  Professor  Walsh " 

"Call  me  Edward,  Anna,"  he  interrupted,  taking  her  hand. 

She  tried  to  withdraw  her  hand  but  he  retained  it. 

"We  are  such  good  friends,"  he  continued.  "Aren't  we, 
Anna?" 

"Yes,"  she  admitted  uncomfortably. 

"Well,  it  is  agreed  then.  I  should  refuse  to  talk  about  it 
to  others  if  I  were  you.  And  anything  new  that  may  come 
up  you  will  let  me  know  at  once,  won't  you,  dear?" 

"Yes — Edward,"  answered  Nannie,  hesitating  slightly, 
somewhat  bewildered  by  the  new  aspect  which  her  affairs  had 
taken." 


IX 

After  the  scene  in  which  he  announced  the  beginning  of 
his  divorce  proceedings  Arthur  never  entered  his  house  again. 
He  had  established  a  residence  in  the  state  capital  but  was  still 
compelled,  in  the  course  of  various  suits  and  details  of  the 
legal  practice  he  was  disposing  of,  to  make  frequent  visits  to 
Russellville.  On  such  occasions  he  slept  in  his  office  and  ate 
his  meals  at  the  local  hotel. 

Nannie,  who  was  always  panic  stricken  when  alone,  less 
from  fear  than  from  lack  of  resources  within  herself,  went, 
on  her  own  initiative  and  despite  a  grudging  welcome,  to  live 
with  Mrs.  Lockhart  at  "Cousin  Minnie's." 

The  divorce  was  granted  in  due  time  and  all  Russellville 
was  agog  with  the  news.  Nannie  considered  it  a  matter  of 
propriety  that  she  should  stay  in  semi-retirement  for  a  while, 
and  so  went  out  very  little.  However,  when  she  did  leave  the 
sanctum  which  "Cousin  Minnie"  had  provided,  she  always 
managed  to  see  Professor  Walsh,  to  whom  she  came  to  look 
for  advice  and  help  in  every  situation. 

It  was  the  same  season,  the  second  of  Lucy's  attendance  at 
the  Art  School,  that  Lucy  and  John  Winter  were  married. 
On  account  of  Nannie's  violent  reproaches  at  the  time  of  the 
divorce  Lucy  had  not  communicated  with  her  mother  for 
many  months,  but  when  she  decided  to  marry  John  she  im- 
mediately wrote  to  Nannie. 

"John  is  only  beginning  business  and  we  shall  have  to  be 
very  economical  for  a  while  at  least,"  the  letter  said.  "Miss 
Storms  has  asked  us  to  be  married  at  her  flat,  but  we  shall 
have  a  very  simple  wedding.  I  would  be  glad  to  have  you 
come  here  but  I  suppose  you  had  rather  not  under  the  cir- 
cumstances. We  have  rented  some  furnished  rooms  that  will 
be  convenient  for  light  housekeeping  but  I  hope  soon  we  can 

70 


BLIND   MICE  71 

get  out  in  the  suburbs  where  it  will  be  cheaper  and  healthier." 

Although  Professor  Walsh  had  questioned  Nannie  closely 
regarding  Lucy  and  the  girl's  attitude  toward  family  affairs, 
Nannie  replied  to  her  daughter's  letter  without  consulting  him. 

"I  am  only  your  mother,"  Nannie  wrote,  "so  of  course  it 
would  be  preposterous  to  consider  me  in  regard  to  the  step 
you  are  taking.  I  have  suffered  a  great  deal  at  the  hands  of 
your  father  but  I  have  not  lost  my  pride  and  self  respect  yet, 
and  if  there  was  anything  more  you  could  do  to  further 
alienate  me,  this  was  it.  You  forfeited  all  right  to  my  af- 
fection when  you  deserted  me  in  my  hour  of  trial  in  order 
to  pursue  your  owri  selfish  aims,  but  this  marriage  to  a  man 
I  know  nothing  about,  who  may  be  a  nobody  from  Heaven 
knows  where,  is  the  climax.  I  think  from  now  on  there  is 
not  much  use  in  our  writing  to  one  another." 

Arthur  was  still  engaged  in  an  important  case  at  the  capi- 
tal and  could  not  be  present  at  the  wedding. 

"I  am  sorry  I  can  not  be  there,"  his  letter  read.  "All  the 
advice  I  can  give  you,  Lucy,  is  don't  let  your  mother  intrude 
on  your  happiness." 

John  sent  an  invitation  to  his  parents,  but  Dr.  Winter,  a 
clergyman,  was  old  and  in  ill  health,  and  was  not  able  to  bear 
the  double  strain  of  the  journey  and  the  cold  weather.  Mrs. 
Winter,  a  kindly  sentimental  lady  who  would  never  have 
thought  of  leaving  her  husband,  sent  tearful  regrets,  and  be- 
moaned the  fact  that  John  and  Lucy  did  not  come  to  the 
home  town  and  so  make  it  possible  for  Dr.  Winter  himself  to 
officiate  at  the  wedding  of  his  only  son. 

In  the  end  only  Jim  Sprague  and  Miss  Storms  witnessed 
the  quiet  affair.  These  two  had  liked  each  other  since  the 
day  of  their  first  meeting.  Miss  Storms'  interest  in  Jim  had 
risen  from  the  fact  that  he  was  John's  business  associate  and 
intimate.  Later  she  gave  him  her  friendship  for  his  own  sake 
and  often  referred  to  him  affectionately  as  "our  Jim."  There 
was  an  unanalysable  and  very  subtle  comprehension  between 
the  two,  though  Miss  Storms  remained  quite  as  kindly  aloof 
from  him  in  her  manner  as  she  did  with  John  and  Lucy ;  and 
Jim,  as  in  all  his  relations,  was  ungiven  to  self-revealing 
speech. 


72  BLIND    MICE 

"Well,  Jim,  Lucy  has  good  taste  in  friends  as  well  as  in 
husbands,"  Miss  Storms  remarked,  smiling  at  him  with  quiz- 
zical complaisance  when  the  wedding  ceremony  was  over. 
"I  hate  all  the  immodest  fol-de-lol  of  church  weddings,"  she 
went  on,  changing  the  subject,  "but  it  is  a  shame  that  any- 
thing as  pretty  as  Lucy  in  those  new  togs  should  be  wasted 
on  the  desert  air.  For  you  and  I  don't  count." 

While  she  was  speaking  Lucy  came  up.  Miss  Storms  took 
her  hand. 

"Well,  dear?" 

Lucy's  eyes  swam  with  tears.  She  clasped  Miss  Storms' 
hand  in  both  her  own  and  squeezed  it  impulsively.  Miss 
Storms  kissed  her  forehead. 

"I'm  jealous,  child,"  the  older  woman  declared. 

"So  am  I,"  John  laughed. 

"Neither  of  you  need  be."    Lucy  smiled  unsteadily. 

"What  about  you,  Jim?"  Miss  Storms  turned  to  the  other 
guest. 

"I've  always  been  jealous  of  John,"  Jim  answered,  flushing 
a  little  as  he  spoke. 

Arthur  and  Mrs.  Low,  for  reasons  best  known  to  them- 
selves, were  not  married  in  Chicago  as  expected,  but  at  the 
state  capital  where  Arthur's  new  practice  had  begun  to 
flourish.  When  the  notice  of  the  wedding  was  copied  by  the 
Russellville  Weekly  Clarion,  another  outburst  of  gossip  oc- 
curred, but,  as  neither  of  them  returned  to  the  place  after  their 
marriage,  it  did  not  disturb  them.  Arthur  made  two  visits  to 
Chicago,  and  on  one  of  these,  not  long  after  Dimmie's  birth, 
he  spent  a  night  at  Rosedene.  Here  he  met  Jim  Sprague  for 
whom  he  afterward  expressed  a  strong  liking. 

Nannie  had  no  means  of  escape  from  the  public  attention 
attracted  to  herself  and  her  interests,  and  the  wounds  to  her 
vanity  were  keenly  felt.  The  protest  of  her  self-esteem  was 
her  conspicuous  appearance  in  frequented  places  with  Profes- 
sor Walsh.  Again  Russellville  talked,  but  not  for  long.  Nan- 
nie's persistent  recklessness  of  opinion  in  this  matter  palled. 
She  ceased  to  be  a  popular  object  of  criticism.  Events  set- 
tled into  the  routine  that  is  characteristic  of  small  communities. 


BLIND   MICE  73 

The  years  glided  by  without  any  outward  change  in  Nan- 
nie's life.  Of  Arthur's  doings,  she  knew  nothing  except  an 
occasional  hint.  Mrs.  Lockhart  had  issued  an  ultimatum  on 
Lucy's  marriage  by  forbidding  any  further  relation  with  such 
an  undutiful  daughter,  and  Nannie,  overawed  by  the  old  lady 
and  more  or  less  dependent  on  her,  dared  not  disobey. 

Professor  Walsh  was  often  at  the  "big  house"  and,  chiefly 
through  his  universally  acknowledged  friendship  with  the  Shel- 
dons,  was  yearly  becoming  more  and  more  a  power  in  the 
community.  He  paid  much  special  and  flattering  attention  to 
Mrs.  Lockhart,  who  was  rapidly  growing  deaf  and  would 
otherwise  have  been  lonely. 

Although  the  professor's  interest  in  Nannie  was  tacitly  rec- 
ognized by  the  family,  Mrs.  Lockhart  employed  all  the  in- 
genuity of  a  jealous  and  neglected  old  woman  to  curb  im- 
patience on  the  part  of  her  niece  and  nephew,  while  Professor 
Walsh,  who  was  already  receiving  for  nothing  the  benefits 
that  Nannie  represented,  constantly  abetted  the  old  lady's 
wiles  in  so  subtle  a  manner  that  Nannie  hardly  realized  her 
own  position. 

After  four  years  of  this  regime  Mrs.  Lockhart  died,  and 
Nannie  was  left  in  "Cousin  Minnie's"  house  with  no  one  upon 
whom  she  could  persuade  herself  she  had  the  semblance  of  a 
claim.  "Cousin  Minnie"  herself,  on  whom  seemed  to  have 
descended  Mrs.  Lockhart's  mantle  of  decision,  soon  banished 
any  doubts  that  Nannie  may  have  had  regarding  her  status  in 
the  "big  house." 

"When  are  you  going  to  marry  Professor  Walsh?"  she 
asked  Nannie  abruptly  one  day  not  long  after  Mrs.  Lockhart's 
death. 

"Why — I  never  said  I  was  going  to  marry  him,"  responded 
Nannie  with  a  demurely  girlish  giggle. 

"Well,  everybody  has  been  expecting  you  to  for  the  last 
three  or  four  years,  and  if  you  don't  intend  to  you  will  please 
not  give  people  further  reason  to  gossip  about  you  while  you 
are  in  my  house.  The  best  people  have  dropped  you  for  it 
and  I  don't  care  to  be  included." 

"Why,  Cousin  Minnie "  began  Nannie,  tearful  in  an  in- 
stant. 


74  BLIND   MICE 

"Where  do  you  get  so  many  good  clothes  ?"  "Cousin  Minnie" 
interrupted. 

"Why — why "  Nannie  faltered.  But  "Cousin  Minnie" 

did  not  remain  to  discuss  the  matter. 

This,  and  a  number  of  similar  happenings,  led  Nannie  to 
consider  her  position  seriously,  and  she  made  a  surreptitious 
pilgrimage  to  consult  her  oracle,  Professor  Walsh,  regarding 
her  future. 

"We  can  not  marry  for  another  year,  at  least,  Anna,"  said 
he  didactically.  Nannie's  eyes  opened  wide  at  this. 

"Of  course,  Edward,"  she  acquiesced  dutifully. 

"Could  you  not  visit  your  daughter  for  a  while?"  he  sug- 
gested. "As  a  rule  it  is  not  best  to  remain  too  long  with  one 
relative." 

Nannie  swallowed  hard,  as  the  recollection  of  her  letfer  on 
the  occasion  of  Lucy's  marriage  came  over  her. 

"But,  Edward,  I've  told  you  how  matters  are  between  Lucy 
and  me.  You  know  how  Mother  took  her  going  away  and 
marrying  a  stranger  afterward." 

"Just  a  minute,  Anna.  Don't  become  so  excited.  Remem- 
ber what  I  have  told  you  so  often,  that  'stillness  of  form  and 
steadiness  of  feature  are  signal  marks  of  good  breeding.'  I 
was  just  about  to  say  that  now  your  mother  is  dead,  it  is  a 
good  time  to  write  your  daughter  and  renew  your  old  rela- 
tions with  her.  She  will  be  most  useful  to  us,  and  besides,  a 
mother  and  daughter  should  not  be  separated." 

"I'm  sure  I  have  no  hard  feelings  toward  Lucy,"  admitted 
Nannie,  somewhat  uneasily. 

"Quite  so,  quite  so.  A  letter  properly  written  would  in  all 
probability  readjust  matters  satisfactorily  to  all.  You  might 
advert  to  the  fact  that  your  mother  persisted  in  a  hostile  at- 
titude and  that  you  were  dependent  on  her.  Also  you  had 
best  adopt  a  generous  tone." 

"Very  well,  Edward,"  agreed  Nannie.  a 

"Good.  Now  that  is  settled.  You  had  better  write  at  once, 
my  dear.  And  you  might  let  me  see  the  letter  before  send- 
ing it." 

Nannie  wrote  that  night. 

The  letter  began  vaguely.     Mrs.  Lockhart's  memory  was 


BLIND   MICE  75 

invoked.  Forgiveness  was  offered,  though  for  what  was  not 
specified,  a  reconciliation  was  taken  for  granted,  and  a  visit 
to  Lucy  proposed  in  terms  that  were  difficult  to  ignore  or  re- 
fuse. 

Nannie  pathetically  reminded  Lucy  that  Arthur  paid  no 
alimony,  and  recounted  indignantly  the  heartlessness  of  the 
Sheldons.  The  letter  contained  no  mention  of  Professor 
Walsh.  "I  am  thrown  on  the  world,"  concluded  the  epistle. 
"Your  father  has  deserted  me  and  my  own  relatives  have 
threatened  to  put  me  in  the  street." 

In  a  few  days  came  Lucy's  reply.  It  was  an  invitation  to 
pass  an  indefinite  time  at  Rosedene. 


Nearly  a  week  had  passed  since  Mrs.  Merwent's  arrival 
at  Rosedene  and  Jim  had  not  visited  the  Winter  home.  This 
was  an  unprecedented  length  of  time  for  him  to  stay  away. 

"How  is  Mr.  Sprague,  your  partner?"  Nannie  queried  one 
evening  at  dinner. 

"Oh,  he's  all  right,"  responded  John,  and  then  added,  "Why, 
he's  not  been  out  since  the  day  you  came !  I'll  ask  him  out  to 
dinner  tomorrow  night.  He's  no  extra  trouble." 

Lucy  was  silent. 

"I'd  like  to  get  acquainted  with  him,"  pursued  Mrs.  Mer- 
went.  "Of  course  if  it's  too  much  work  for  Lucy " 

"Why  no,"  answered  John.  "Lucy  never  has  anything 
extra  for  Jim.  Do  you,  Lucy?  I  want  you  to  know  him, 
Nannie.  You'll  like  him  fine." 

"Lucy  hasn't  said  anything,"  persisted  Nannie.  "I  think 
she'd  rather  not  have  anybody." 

"No,  it's  all  right,"  agreed  Lucy.  "Jim's  no  extra  trouble, 
ever." 

The  next  morning  John  told  Jim. 

"Nannie  and  Lucy  want  you  for  dinner,"  John  said.  "You 
didn't  use  to  have  to  be  asked.  Why  didn't  you  come  out  be- 
fore?" 

"I've  been  going  over  the  books,"  explained  Jim.  "We 
must  raise  our  prices  on  those  small  houses.  We  don't  make 
anything  on  them  at  present  figures." 

That  evening  they  took  the  train  out  to  Rosedene  together. 

When  they  arrived  Lucy  was  in  the  kitchen  and  Mrs.  Mer- 
went  met  them  at  the  door. 

"Are  you  tired?"  she  murmured  solicitously  as  she  kissed 
John's  cheek,  then,  smiling  and  extending  her  hand  to  Jim, 
"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Sprague?  You're  quite  a  stranger. 
Lucy  thought  you  had  deserted  us." 

76 


BLIND    MICE  77 

"No,  I've  been  busy,"  he  replied,  taking  her  hand  and  smil- 
ing in  turn. 

When  the  three  entered  the  dining  room,  Mrs.  Merwent 
picked  up  two  boutonnieres  from  the  table  and  pinned  first 
one  on  Jim's  coat  lapel,  and  then  the  other  on  John's. 

"Thank  you,  Mrs.  Merwent,"  said  Jim. 

John  patted  her  shoulder. 

"Why,  how  sweet  of  you,  Nannie !"  he  exclaimed. 

At  this  juncture  Dimmie  rushed  in  and,  throwing  himself 
headlong  into  Jim's  outstretched  arms,  yelled  delightedly, 
"Uncle  Jim,  Uncle  Jim,  the  cat's  got  kittens !" 

"Why  how  boisterous  you  are,  Jimmie."  Mrs.  Merwent 
spoke  reprovingly.  (She  never  called  him  "Dimmie.") 

"Yes,"  said  John.     "You  make  too  much  noise,  Dimmie." 

"He's  all  right.  I'm  used  to  him,"  put  in  Jim.  He  realized 
as  he  spoke  that  never  before  had  he  interfered  in  the  child's 
training. 

"Well,  if  you  like  it."  Mrs.  Merwent  smiled.  "I'm  afraid 
you  spoil  him,  Mr.  Sprague,"  she  added. 

Jim  lifted  Dimmie  to  his  shoulder  and  went  off  to  inspect 
the  kittens.  On  the  way  they  passed  through  the  kitchen. 

"Hello,  Lucy."  Jim  held  out  his  hand.  "Heard  you 
thought  I'd  deserted  you." 

"I  can't  shake  hands  with  you.  My  hands  are  all  over 
flour,"  she  explained.  "You  know  I  never  thought  any  such 
thing!" 

"Yes,  I  know,"  he  answered. 

Dimmie  grew  impatient. 

"It'll  get  dark  and  you  can't  see  the  kittens,"  he  complained. 

After  Jim  and  Dimmie  had  left  the  dining  room,  Nannie, 
who  was  stading  by  the  table,  began  to  look  about  as  if  in 
search  of  something. 

"Why,  Lucy  must  have  forgotten  to  order  it,"  she  observed, 
as  if  to  herself.  Then  she  turned  to  her  son-in-law,  placing 
her  hand  on  his  arm. 

"John,"  she  asked,  smiling,  "would  you  do  Nannie  a  favor?" 

"Sure,"  he  consented.    "What  is  it?" 

"I  wish  you  would  get  me  a  little  fruit  to  keep  in  my  room. 
I  like  to  eat  a  little  before  going  to  bed." 


78  BLIND    MICE 

"Of  course.    I'll  have  some  sent  around  in  the  morning." 

"I  meant  tonight — if  you  didn't  mind." 

"All  right.    Jim  and  I'll  go  and  get  it  after  dinner." 

"You  cruel  boy!  You  want  to  advertise  my  weakness  to 
the  world.  I  didn't  want  anybody  to  know." 

"Good.  I'll  just  pop  out  and  get  it  right  away.  How's 
that?" 

"You're  a  dear  boy.  I'm  afraid  Lucy  wouldn't  approve  of 
spoiling  me  this  way."  Mrs.  Merwent  walked  into  the  hall 
where  John  followed  her. 

"Well,  we  won't  tell  anybody,"  declared  John.  He  took 
his  hat  from  the  rack  and  went  out  the  front  door,  closing  it 
gently  after  him. 

Jim  and  Dimmie  came  back  from  the  kitten  inspecting  ex- 
pedition and,  entering  the  living  room,  found  Mrs.  Merwent 
alone. 

"Mother  was  asking  for  you  a  minute  ago,  Jimmie,"  she 
told 'the  little  boy. 

Dimmie  ran  to  the  kitchen. 

Jim  sat  down  by  the  fire  place. 

"Everybody  has  left  me  to  amuse  myself,  Mr.  Sprague." 
Nannie  looked  up  at  him  challengingly  from  the  depths  of  the 
Morris  chair  in  which  she  was  reclining. 

"Why  where's  John?"  he  asked. 

"He's  gone  out  some  place  for  a  few  minutes.  I  don't 
know  where,"  she  said.  "Wouldn't  you  like  to  smoke?"  She 
rose.  "I'll  get  some  of  John's  cigarettes." 

"No,  thank  you.  I  don't  smoke  cigarettes.  I'll  fill  my  pipe 
if  you  don't  mind." 

"I  smoke  cigarettes  sometimes,  when  I'm  quite  alone,"  she 
confided,  laughing  slightly. 

"Yes?" 

"I  suppose  you  don't  approve  of  ladies  smoking,  do  you?" 
she  insisted. 

"If  they  want  to." 

"Does  Lucy  smoke?" 

"No." 

Mrs.  Merwent  laughed  again. 

"I  didn't  know,"  she  declared. 


BLINDMICE  79 

Jim  gazed  at  her  steadily.  The  front  door  clicked  and  she 
started. 

"Was  that  John?"  she  asked. 

Jim  rose  and  glanced  through  the  window. 

"No,"  he  responded.  "It  was  Dimmie.  He  threw  his  ball 
into  the  street.  Did  you  want  anything,  Mrs.  Merwent  ?" 

"Oh,  no,"  she  assured  him.  "I  just  wondered.  He  said  he 
was  coming  right  back.  Well,  we  don't  need  a  chaperone, 
do  we?" 

"Hardly,"  replied  Jim. 

Mrs.  Merwent  dropped  a  marquise  ring  she  had  been  pull- 
ing on  and  off  her  finger.  Jim  picked  it  up  and  handed  it  to 
her. 

"Thank  you.  I  shouldn't  be  wearing  rings  with  this  old 
gown.  I  just  put  it  on  from  force  of  habit." 

"Which?"  asked  Jim,  smiling. 

"The  ring,  of  course,  you  sarcastic  thing,"  she  retorted, 
striking  his  knee  with  the  lace  handkerchief  in  her  hand. 

"The  dress  is  charming,  Mrs.  Merwent." 

"Oh,  thank  you.  You're  going  to  be  nice  after  all.  Well, 
I  was  quite  prepared  to  find  you  so.  Lucy  and  John  can't 
say  enough  good  things  about  you." 

"I'm  much  obliged  to  them,"  he  remarked,  smiling  again. 
"I  can  say  the  same  of  them." 

"How  lovely!  I  do  think  real  friendship  is  the  grandest 
thing — and  so  rare." 

"No  doubt  about  that,  Mrs.  Merwent."  Jim  smiled  once 
more. 

"Now  I  believe  you're  making  fun  of  me,  Mr.  Sprague." 

"I  can  assure  you  I'm  not,  Mrs.  Merwent." 

"I  envy  them,  you  know.  I've  been  so  lonely  since  my — 
trouble." 

"I  can  quite  imagine,"  said  Jim  sympathetically.  "But  now 
you  are  with  your  children  and — — " 

"Yes,"  she  interrupted  hastily,  "and  isn't  John  just  the 
dearest  fellow!  I  do  so  regret  our  misunderstanding. 
Though  I  was  not  to  blame  for  it,"  she  added. 

"John's  a  good  sort,"  Jim  agreed. 


80  BLIND    MICE 

"And  Lucy."  Mrs.  Merwent  now  smiled.  "You  haven't  said 
anything  about  Lucy." 

"We  weren't  talking  about  her." 

"Well,  she's  a  dear  girl,  although — why  I've  burnt  my  slip- 
per!" she  broke  off.  "Do  you  know,  Mr.  Sprague,  that  I 
have  the  hardest  time  to  get  shoes  narrow  enough.  It  seems 
that  most  women,  especially  here  in  the  North,  have  big  feet. 
Lucy  takes  after  her  father.  He  was  a  Northern  man." 

Jim  seemed  amused,  and  Mrs.  Merwent  concluded  hastily. 

"But  here  I  am  chattering  on  about  me,"  she  said,  "and  you 
haven't  told  me  anything  about  yourself." 

"There  isn't  much  to  tell,  Mrs.  Merwent." 

"Well,  if  you  could  hear  Lucy  and  John  talk  about  you 
you  wouldn't  be  so  modest." 

"Neither  of  them  has  much  critical  acumen  in  matters  of 
friendship." 

"But  you  are  their  only  intimate  friend." 

Jim  laughed. 

"That's  just  it,"  he  asserted. 

"You  cynical  thing!"  she  reproved  banteringly.  "I  know 
you  men  with  no  illusions.  I  declare  I'm  afraid  of  you." 

"Not  dangerous — believe  me,  Mrs.  Merwent." 

"No.  You  despise  us  women  too  much  to  take  us  se- 
riously." 

"Some  of  the  biggest  individuals  I  have  met  have  been 
women,"  Jim  answered  gravely. 

"Lucy,  for  instance." 

"Yes,  Lucy,"  agreed  Jim. 

"Well,  I'm  not  much  like  her.    Do  you  think  so?" 

"Our  acquaintance  is  pretty  brief  to  justify  a  fundamental 
judgment  of  that  sort." 

"Oh,  I'm  not  at  all  intellectual  or  deep.  I  can't  talk  about 
Bergson  and  books  like  Jean  Christophe  that  Lucy  reads. 
I'm  afraid  you  won't  like  poor  little  me  much." 

"There  are  lots  of  people  I  don't  like  who  talk  about 
philosophy  and  musical  novels."  His  tone  was  pleasant. 

"Well,  I  have  a  feeling  already  that  you  don't  like  me  very 
well." 


BLIND    MICE  81 

"I  don't  think  I  could  help  liking  Lucy's  mother,"  Jim  an- 
swered without  conviction. 

"Thanks !  I  don't  know  that  I  care  to  be  liked  because  I'm 
Lucy's  mother,"  she  replied,  laughing  nervously.  "Your  lik- 
ing seems  to  be  confined  to  Lucy  and  things  belonging  to  her. 
That's  not  very  complimentary  to  the  rest  of  us." 

Jim,  who  had  been  staring  at  the  empty  grate,  glanced  up 
and  met  Mrs.  Merwent's  eyes.  Her  gaze  dropped. 

"Yes,  I  do  like  Lucy,  and  the  people  she  likes,"  he  acknowl- 
edged frankly,  "and  if  anybody  liked  me  on  the  same  recom- 
mendation I  should  feel  honored.  She  is  a  person  any  man 
or  woman  must  feel  it  a  great  privilege  to  know." 

Mrs.  Merwent  arched  her  brows. 

"Of  course  I  think  just  as  you  do  about  Lucy,  Mr.  Sprague, 
but  if  I  were  John  I  might"  (she  smiled  again)  "object  the 
tiniest  bit  to  your — enthusiasm." 

"Object?"    Jim  looked  blank. 

"Maybe  that  is  the  wrong  word."  Nannie's  smile  grew 
more  meaning.  "It  isn't  every  man  who  enjoys  having  his 
wife  admired  too  much." 

"If  John  objects  he  only  needs  to  say  so.  I  don't  think  you 
quite  understand  the  atmosphere  of  this  household  yet,  Mrs. 
Merwent." 

"This  household  ?" 

"Your  daughter  then." 

"Well,  I  certainly  think  I  ought  to  know  her." 

"You  ought,  but  the  most  charitable  thing  is  to  believe  you 
don't."  There  was  decided  asperity  in  Jim's  tone. 

Mrs.  Merwent's  manner  changed.    She  rose  haughtily. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that,  Mr.  Sprague !"  she  exclaimed 

Jim  rose  also,  and  the  two  scrutinized  each  other  in  silence 
for  a  moment. 

"No  offense  intended,"  he  protested,  turning  and  knocking 
his  pipe  out  on  the  mantel  shelf. 

Nannie  was  still  injured. 

"I  don't  see  how  such  innocent  remarks  can  be  so  misin- 
terpreted," she  insisted,  crumpling  her  handkerchief. 

Jim  did  not  answer  at  once.  When  he  spoke  his  manner 
was  authoritative. 


82  BLINDMICE 

"Don't  you  think  it  would  be  wise  to  drop  this  topic,  Mrs. 
Merwent  ?" 

She  preserved  her  air  of  dignity,  but  her  uneasiness  was 
obvious. 

"I  don't  understand  you,"  Mr.  Sprague.  I  certainly  will  not 
be  stopped  from  doing  my  duty  in  protecting  Lucy  no  matter 
if  you  do  misunderstand  me." 

"Protecting  Lucy?"    Jim's  eyes  hardened. 

Mrs.  Merwent  twisted  her  handkerchief  nervously. 

"Do  you  think  Lucy  needs  to  be  protected  from  me,  Mrs. 
Merwent?"  he  went  on  inexorably. 

Lucy's  voice  was  heard  calling  Dimmie.  Nannie  backed  to- 
ward the  hallway. 

Jim  heard  Lucy  too. 

"I  think  Lucy  needs  protecting  from  her  own  ignorance  and 
inexperience,"  explained  Nannie  defensively.  "I've  suffered 
enough  from  public  opinion  even  though  I  was  innocent,  Mr. 
Sprague,  and  I  can't  be  expected  to  welcome  the  same  thing 
for  her." 

Jim  seemed  nonplussed. 

"I  confess  you  have  the  best  of  me,  Mrs.  Merwent." 

Nannie  was  mollified  by  seeing  how  disturbed  he  looked. 

"I  knew  you  would  consider  Lucy's  welfare  just  as  I  do.'* 
Then  she  seemed  to  dismiss  the  discussion.  "There  she  is 
now.  She  does  spoil  Jimmie  so !" 

"It  has  begun  to  rain,  Dimmie.  You  mustn't  stay  out  in 
the  rain.  Where's  Papa?"  Lucy  was  heard  saying. 

"Dear  me!  It  is  raining.  I  left  a  coat  suit  airing  in  the 
window.  I'm  packing  away  my  winter  things.  You  will  ex- 
cuse me  while  I  go  and  take  it  in,  Mr.  Sprague  ?"  Mrs.  Mer- 
went was  smiling  now,  though  she  continued  to  regard  Jim 
with  apprehension. 

Jim  turned  to  face  her  suddenly. 

"Hold  on,  Mrs.  Merwent!"  he  began  in  an  odd  tone,  his 
voice  not  quite  under  his  control.  , 

Nannie  continued  to  smile  impersonally  but  in  spite  of  her- 
self she  hesitated. 

"You  will  please  tell  me  now  just  what  you  mean  about 
Lucy  and  myself,"  he  demanded  rather  than  asked. 


BLIND    MICE  83 

"Maybe  Uncle  Jim  knows  where  Papa  is."  Lucy  came  to- 
ward the  living  room  door. 

Nannie  raised  her  brows  again  and  nodded  at  Jim  signi- 
ficantly. 

"Ahem — I  really  don't  think  we  had  better "  she  mur- 
mured. 

Jim  shrugged  his  shoulders  with  a  baffled  air  and  began  to 
refill  his  pipe.  At  the  same  moment  Lucy  appeared  in  the 
doorway  behind  her  mother. 

"Where's  John  ?"  Lucy  asked,  entering  the  room  with  Dim- 
mie  and  glancing  about  inquiringly. 

"Why  he  went  out  for  a  few  minutes.  I  must  run  upstairs 
and  take  my  clothes  out  of  the  rain,"  Mrs.  Merwent  mur- 
mured, brushing  past  her  daughter  into  the  hallway. 

"Whatever  made  John  run  away  just  when  dinner 
was  ready  ?  And  it's  begun  to  rain  too !"  Lucy  walked  over 
to  the  fireplace  and  placed  a  screen  in  front  of  it. 

"Tell  me  a  story,  Uncle  Jim,"  Dimmie  begged,  pulling  Jim's 
coat  tails  and  indicating  the  Morris  chair  which  Nannie  had 
quitted. 

"It's  too  near  dinner  time,"  Lucy  remonstrated,  noticing 
how  abstracted  Jim  appeared.  She  looked  at  the  clock  on 
the  writing  desk.  "Is  it  as  late  as  that?"  she  asked  in  sur- 
prise. 

Jim  took  out  his  watch. 

"Seven  fifteen,"  he  informed  her,  replacing  his  time-piece, 
and  walking  over  to  the  darkened  window  he  remained,  with 
his  back  to  her,  gazing  into  the  faintly  lit  street. 

She  scrutinised  his  half  averted  face. 

"Are  you  bothered  about  something,  Jim?" 

He  started  slightly. 

"Why,  no,  not  particularly.  I  was  figuring  out  what  would 
be  the  cheapest  material  we  could  put  into  that  new  row  of 
houses,"  he  lied.  "I've  got  to  send  in  the  final  estimates  to- 
morrow." He  moved  away  from  the  window  and  seated  him- 
self in  the  Morris  chair  with  Dimmie  in  his  lap. 

"I  can't  imagine  what  keeps  John,"  Lucy  remarked  again. 

Jim  slid  Dimmie  to  the  floor. 

"Don't  you  want  me  to  go  and  hunt  him  up?" 


84  BLIND    MICE 

"Why— no-o.    I "  Lucy  demurred.    "I  don't  think " 

Just  then  there  was  the  sound  of  a  key  turning  in  a  latch 
and  Dimmie  darted  forward  into  the  hall  shouting,  "There's 
Papa!  There's  Papa!" 

John  left  a  parcel  on  the  stand  with  his  hat  and  overcoat 
and  entered  the  living  room. 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me  that  you  intended  going  out,  John  ? 
I  wouldn't  have  taken  dinner  up.  I'm  afraid  it  is  spoiled," 
Lucy  said  good  naturedly  as  she  came  forward  to  meet  him. 

"Oh,  you  know  I — well "  John  explained  running  his 

fingers  through  his  hair  with  an  embarrassed  gesture. 

"What  in  the  world  did  you  have  to  buy  that  couldn't  wait 
until  after  dinner?"  Lucy  walked  into  the  hall  and  picked  up 
the  package  which  lay  beside  his  hat. 

"Why,  it's  some  fruit.  I  thought  it  might  be  nice  to  have 
some,"  he  said  lamely,  following  her  to  the  hat  stand. 

"But  there's  plenty  of  fruit  in  the  house." 

Nannie  appeared  on  the  stairs. 

"Why,  where  have  you  been,  John?  We  were  all  looking 
for  you,"  she  called  rather  uneasily. 


XI 

John  and  Nannie  entered  the  dining  room  together.  Jim 
followed  with  Lucy  and  Dimmie. 

"Did  Nannie  give  you  those  flowers,  Uncle  Jim?"  Dimmie 
asked  as  they  went  through  the  hall.  He  reached  for  the 
boutonniere  which  Jim  was  wearing. 

"Yes.  Do  you  want  some  ?"  Jim  answered,  taking  the  sprig 
of  blossoms  from  his  button  hole  and  halting  to  decorate  Ditn- 
mie's  blouse  with  it. 

In  the  dining  room  there  was  a  little  confusion  as  John 
pulled  out  a  chair  for  Nannie  and  she  seated  herself  with  a 
rustle.  She  began  to  serve  the  soup.  Jim  observed  Lucy 
stealthily. 

When  the  plates  were  distributed  Nannie  noticed  Dimmie's 
adornment. 

"Why,  you've  lost  your  flowers,  Mr.  Sprague!"  she  ex- 
claimed, without  looking  at  Jim. 

"I  gave  them  to  Dimmie,"  he  answered  quickly. 

"Oh,"  said  Nannie. 

John  regarded  Jim  with  an  expression  of  surprise  but  low- 
ered his  eyes  as  Jim  met  his  gaze. 

"I  don't  believe  Mr.  Sprague  likes  flowers,  does  he,  Lucy  ?" 
inquired  Mrs.  Merwent  sweetly. 

"Of  course  he  does,  Mamma,"  Lucy  declared  patiently. 
There  was  a  brief  silence. 

"Now  we'll  have  one  of  the  good  old  evenings !"  cried  John, 
rubbing  his  hands.  "By  the  way,  you  two  are  too  formal, 
Nannie.  Why  don't  you  call  each  other  by  your  names?" 

"Mr.  Sprague  doesn't  approve  of  getting  acquainted  too 
rapidly,"  retorted  Nannie. 

"I  see  by  the  paper  that  some  rich  guy  has  loaned  a  lot  of 
Corots  to  the  Field  Museum.  That  ought  to  interest  you, 
John,"  remarked  Jim,  changing  the  subject. 

85 


86  BLIND    MICE 

"Do  you  know,  I  was  thinking  of  Corot  today,"  responded 
John  enthusiastically.  "His  art  is  a  fairy  art.  He  gives  you 
the  poetry  of  Nature  without  being  irritatingly  subjective." 

"I  just  love  Corot,"  put  in  Mrs.  Merwent  ecstatically. 

"Don't  you!"  pursued  John  eagerly.  "I  tell  you,  Nannie, 
that  lots  of  greatly  admired  things  make  me  sick,  jammed  full 
of  Christian  sentiment,  or  reminding  one  of  literary  illustra- 
tions. Why  can't  artists  stick  to  their  purpose!  What  was 
that  you  said  the  other  evening,  Jim,  about  Botticelli's 
Spring — that  it  was  both  pagan  and  subtle,  wasn't  it?" 

"Forgotten,"  said  Jim,  who  was  helping  Dimmie  to  pota- 
toes. 

"That  was  it."  Lucy  smiled  approvingly.  "Won't  you  have 
another  croquette,  Mamma?" 

"I  believe  I  will,  thank  you,"  assented  Mrs.  Merwent,  even 
as  she  spoke  accepting  the  helping.  "There !  There !  That's 
more  than  plenty,  Lucy.  You'll  have  Mr.  Sprague  thinking 
I'm  a  gourmand." 

"Good  stuff,  Lucy,"  declared  Jim,  taking  a  second  cro- 
quette himself.  "Wouldn't  blame  your  mother  if  she  were." 

"But  really,  Mr.  Sprague,  as  a  rule " 

She  was  interrupted  by  John. 

"Jim,  why  on  earth  can't  you  call  Nannie  by  her  name! 
One  would  think  she  was  a  perfect  stranger." 

"She  is,  nearly,"  said  Lucy,  smiling  again. 

"Well,  we're  all  starting  over  now,"  returned  John  in  a  tone 
of  mild  reprimand,  "and  she  won't  be  in  the  future,  so  let's 
not  be  so  formal." 

An  uncomfortable  pause  followed. 

"You've  dropped  your  flower,  John."  As  Nannie  spoke 
at  last,  she  picked  up  the  boutonniere  from  the  table  and  re- 
placed it  in  the  lapel  of  his  coat.  "What  was  that  you  were 
saying  about  art?" 

"Oh!  Well  you  know,  Nannie,  I  was  just  going  to  say 
that  I  don't  have  any  more  use  for  these  new  movements  in 
art  than  for  the  moralizing  and  story  telling  things  of  the 
last  century.  These  cubist  and  futuristic  cranks  forget  the 
same  thing  the  others  do.  That  is  that  the  artist's  purpose  is 
to  create  beauty.  Why  can't  they  give  us  the  beauty  they  see 


BLIND   M  PC  E  87 

and  let  us  judge  of  it,  instead  of  trying  to  tell  us  something 
about  it  we  aren't  interested  in.  Now  take  Inness,  for  in- 
stance  " 

"I  just  love  him!  Aren't  his  things  fine!"  Nannie 
chimed  in. 

John  rumpled  his  hair. 

"Yes,  an  Inness,"  he  repeated.  "Doesn't  it  give  you 
enough?  Can't  you  look  at  it  and  hear  the  wind  in  the  trees? 
It  isn't  only  atmosphere,  it's  the  beauty  of  nature  in  its  sim- 
plicity, and  that's  what  we  want  in  art — simplicity."  He 
looked  around  the  table. 

"You've  thought  a  lot  about  such  things,"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Merwent  admiringly. 

"It  isn't  so  much  an  intellectual  conception  as  a  feeling  for 
the  true  thing  that  counts  in  art,  Nannie,"  replied  John. 

"That's  what  I  mean,"  she  explained. 

"Your  dinner'll  get  cold,  dear,"  interrupted  Lucy. 

John  began  to  eat  again  and  silence  reigned  for  some 
moments. 

Lucy  turned  to  Jim. 

"The  croquettes  aren't  all  gone  yet.  Have  another  ?"  she  in- 
vited. 

"No,  thanks." 

"I'll  take  one,  Lucy,  if  you  don't  mind,"  interposed  Nan- 
nie. Lucy  passed  the  dish  hastily. 

"Why  of  course,  Mamma." 

Silence  descended  again  on  the  group. 

"We  seem  to  be  a  quiet  family,"  Mrs.  Merwent  observed 
after  a  few  moments. 

John  looked  up  from  his  plate. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you,  Jim?  And  you  too,  Lucy?" 
he  inquired,  glancing  from  one  of  them  to  the  other.  "It 
seems  as  though  a  funeral  had  struck  the  place.  Neither  of, 
you  have  a  word  to  say  tonight." 

"Seems  to  me  I'm  talking  as  much  as  usual,"  said  Jim  de- 
fensively, laughing  a  little.  "The  trouble  is  that  you've  quit 
talking.  We  always  listen  to  you." 

"Rot!"  retorted  John.  "You  haven't  said  half  a  dozen 
words." 


88  BLIND    MICE 

"I  thought  you  all  discussed  the  most  abstruse  things,"  put 
in  Nannie. 

"We  do,"  avowed  John.  "I  can't  understand  what's  come 
over  them." 

"Do  talk  about  something  profound,  Mr.  Sprague.  I  love 
to  listen  even  if  I  can't  join  in  the  discussion,"  she  urged. 

"You're  really  mistaken,  Mrs.  Merwent.  I  talk  very  lit- 
tle, Jim  protested.  "John's  joking." 

"I  suppose  it  depends  on  the  company  you're  in,"  she  par- 
ried. 

"I  talked  a  lot  to  you  before  dinner."  Jim  turned  his  eyes 
on  her. 

Nannie  avoided  his  gaze. 

"My  friend  Professor  Walsh,  who  is  head  of  the  school  at 
home,  has  a  better  opinion  of  me  than  some  other  people," 
she  declared  after  a  pause,  ignoring  Jim's  remark  and  speak- 
ing to  the  table  at  large. 

"What  nonsense,  Mamma !"  Lucy  interrupted  gently. 
"Whoever  made  any  comparison!" 

"Comparisons  can  be  made  by  inference,"  Mrs.  Merwent 
insisted  with  dignity.  "Professor  Walsh  knows  all  kinds  of 
erudite  things  and  he  never  considers  it  any  condescension 
to  talk  to  poor  little  me !"  she  finished. 

"Neither  do  we!  What's  got  into  you,  Nannie?"  John  ex- 
claimed, slightly  irritated,  but  laughing. 

"I  know  you  don't,  John."    Nannie  smiled  at  him. 

Lucy  rose. 

"Help  me  bring  in  the  dessert,  Jim,"  she  invited. 

"Lucy  does  need  a  servant,"  Nannie  declared  when  she  and 
John  were  alone  together. 

After  dinner  the  men  remained  in  their  places  to  smoke  as 
was  their  custom,  and  a  little  later  they  all  drew  their  chairs 
back  and  the  conversation  became  more  animated  as  John 
related  at  length  some  of  his  experiences  at  the  art  school. 
Then  Lucy  began  to  clear  the  table. 

Jim  glanced  once  or  twice  at  Mrs.  Merwent  who  was  listen- 
ing to  John  and  asking  questions  about  various  girls  men- 
tioned by  him  in  the  course  of  his  narrative. 


BLINDMICE  89 

"Let  me  help  you  with  the  dishes,  Lucy,"  Jim  lowered  his 
voice  slightly. 

"Why  of  course,  Jim.  I  thought  you  had  forgotten  your 
job,"  Lucy  agreed,  at  the  same  time  regarding  her  mother, 
who  seemed  much  amused  by  something  John  had  just  said 
and  entirely  oblivious  to  her  daughter. 

Jim  removed  his  coat  and  he  and  Lucy  carried  the  dishes  to 
the  kitchen,  Dimmie  assisting  with  invaluable  efforts  and  ad- 
vice. 

While  the  dish  washing  was  in  progress  Mrs.  Merwent  ap- 
peared in  the  kitchen  doorway,  and  surveyed  the  scene  of  ac- 
tivity: Jim,  coatless  and  aproned,  Lucy  with  her  sleeves 
rolled  up,  and  Dimmie  in  general  administrative  charge. 

"Why,  Lucy,  I  didn't  know  you  were  washing  the  dishes! 
Do  let  me  help !"  Nannie  begged  rather  weakly. 

Lucy  replied  pleasantly. 

"No,  thank  you,  Mamma.     We'll  be  through  in  a  minute." 

Nannie  went  back  to  the  dining  room. 

"They  don't  seem  to  need  us  out  there,"  she  informed 
John.  "Do  tell  me  some  more  about  that  Miss  Stimpson  at 
the  Art  School — the  one  with  the  red  hair.  I  think  she's 
so  interesting." 

Soon  Lucy  and  Jim  returned  to  the  dining  room.  Dimmie 
was  hanging  to  his  mother's  skirt  and  rubbing  his  eyes.  She 
looked  down  at  the  child. 

"I  think  I  know  a  little  boy  who  wants  to  go  to  sleepy 
town."  She  smiled  at  him  and  took  his  hand.  "Kiss  Papa 
and  Uncle  Jim,"  she  continued,  leading  him  up  to  John. 

"And  Nannie!  Would  you  forget  poor  Nannie?"  com- 
plained Mrs.  Merwent,  presenting  her  cheek  which  Dimmie 
dutifully  kissed. 

"Good  night,  Dimmie,"  Jim  called  after  the  child. 

"You're  quite  domestic,  Mr.  Sprague,"  Nannie  commented 
after  Lucy  and  Dimmie  had  gone  upstairs. 

"Lucy  turns  old  Jim  into  a  regular  hired  girl  when  he's 
here."  John  grinned  at  his  friend. 

Jim  was  lighting  his  pipe  and  did  not  show  that  he  had 
heard  Nannie's  remark.  When  he  spoke  it  was  to  John. 

Dimmie  fell  asleep  in  the  midst  of  the  first  bedtime  story, 


90  BLIND    MICE 

and  Lucy  soon  left  him.  When  she  came  into  the  dining 
room  her  mother  was  moving  about  as  though  searching  for 
something. 

"What  is  it,  Mamma?"  inquired  Lucy. 

"Why  a  piece  of  sheet  music  I  put  here  on  the  bookcase 
doesn't  seem  to  be  here.  Jimmie  must  have  moved  it." 

"Let  me  help  you  find  it,"  offered  John,  jumping  to  his  feet. 

"Perhaps  it's  on  the  piano  where  you  were  practicing  this 
afternoon,"  suggested  Lucy. 

Mrs.  Merwent  disappeared  into  the  living  room,  followed 
by  John,  and  a  moment  later  the  strains  of  Massenet's  Ouvrez 
tes  Yeux  floated  in  to  the  dining  room. 

"Sit  down,  Jim,"  Lucy  bade  Sprague,  who  was  standing 
with  his  hands  in  his  coat  pockets. 

He  seated  himself  a  little  distance  from  her. 

"Well,  Jim,  Mamma  and  I  are  not  much  alike,  are  we?" 
Lucy  remarked,  smiling  with  a  tired  expression. 

"Wait  till  I  pinch  myself,"  Jim  answered. 

There  was  a  brief  pause. 

"We'll  just  have  to  do  the  best  we  can  with  things,"  Lucy 
said,  rising  and  averting  her  face  as  she  spoke.  She  walked 
over  to  the  mantel  and  arranged  some  flowers  in  a  vase. 

"I'm  outclassed,"  Jim  admitted. 

"Maybe  it's  not  for  always."  She  spoke  consolingly,  looking 
at  the  floor  and  continuing  to  smile  determinedly.  "When 
people  see  things  clearly  there's  always  a  way,  so  let's  not  get 
panicky." 

"The  trouble  is  we  don't  all  see  through  things."  Jim 
snugged  his  shoulders  uncomfortably. 

The  music  ceased  abruptly  but  almost  immediately  began 
again  and  Nannie  sang,  Vous  Dansez  Marquise. 

"Give  John  a  little  time,  Jim.  He'll  see  more  than  the  rest 
of  us  before  long,"  Lucy  went  on,  as  though  defending  her 
husband  from  an  unspoken  accusation. 

Jim  smoked  fiercely. 

"I  hope  so,"  he  said  at  last,  "but,  as  a  rule,  meeting  a  prob- 
lem on  the  installment  plan  is  pretty  poor  spiritual  economy." 

"Lucy,"  he  resumed  after  a  pause,  "your  mother  and  I  had 
a  talk  before  dinner." 


BLIND   MICE  91 

"I  thought  so." 

"Well,  unless  I'm  greatly  mistaken "  Jim  hesitated. 

The  music  had  stopped. 

"Lucy,  why  don't  you  and  Jim  come  in  and  listen?"  John 
Stood  in  the  doorway. 

Mrs.  Merwent's  laugh  tinkled  from  the  other  room. 

"John,  you  dear  silly  boy!"  she  called.  "You  should  allow 
people  to  enjoy  themselves  in  their  own  way." 

"I  was  just  going  back  to  town,"  announced  Jim,  standing 
up.  Lucy  stared  at  him  with  a  surprised  expression. 

At  this  juncture  Nannie  appeared  in  the  doorway  behind 
John.  Both  entered  the  dining  room. 

"Why  what  do  you  mean,  Jim  ?"  John  inquired. 

"I've  got  to  get  to  the  office  early  tomorrow." 

"I  thought  Mr.  Sprague  always  spent  the  night,"  remarked 
Nannie.  "Lucy  showed  me  his  room." 

"He  does,"  declared  John,  and  turned  to  Jim.  "You'll  have 
plenty  of  time  in  the  morning.  We'll  take  the  six  forty." 

"I  must  look  over  the  specifications  for  those  houses,  and 
they're  in  my  room." 

"Well,  if  you  must,  you  must,"  John  agreed,  "but  why 
didn't  you  say  so  before  ?" 

"Good-bye,"  Mrs.  Merwent,"  Jim  said,  ignoring  John's  ques- 
tion. "Good  night,  Lucy."  They  shook  hands. 

"I'll  go  to  the  station  with  you,"  John  offered. 

"No,"  declined  Jim.  "No  need.  I've  just  time  to  catch  the 
nine  five.  Good  night."  He  went  into  the  hall  and  seized  his 
hat  from  the  rack. 

"Good  night,"  called  John.    "See  you  in  the  morning." 

Dimmie,  awakened  by  the  noise  in  the  hall,  cried  out, 
"Mamma !" 

Lucy  went  to  him. 

An  hour  later  she  heard  John  and  her  mother  tip-toeing  up 
the  stairs,  trying  to  avoid  disturbing  her. 

John  had  breakfast  early  the  succeeding  morning  as  he 
wished  to  reach  the  office  simultaneously  with  Jim.  When 
Mrs.  Merwent  came  downstairs  it  was  already  close  to  the 


92  BLIND    MICE 

lunch  hour  and  she  asked  to  have  her  breakfast  in  tne  kitchen 
so  that  she  might  talk  to  Lucy  who  was  at  work  there. 

"Your  friend,  Mr.  Sprague,  doesn't  like  me,"  Mrs.  Mer- 
went  began  as  she  buttered  her  toast  contemplatively. 

"Why,  Mamma,  I  don't  see  what  makes  you  say  that." 
Lucy  measured  some  flour. 

"Do  you  mean  you  didn't  notice  what  he  said  after  dinner 
about  parents  being  in  secret  competition  with  their  children  ?" 

"Yes,  I  heard  that,  but  he  was  speaking  generally.  He  was 
probably  not  thinking  about  you  at  all." 

"No,  he  doesn't  consider  me  intellectual  enough  to  be  worth 
thinking  about.  Professor  Walsh  is  a  great  deal  better  edu- 
cated than  Mr.  Sprague,  so  I  guess  I  can  console  myself  with 
the  fact  that  he  does  find  me  worth  talking  to." 

Lucy  referred  again  to  her  recipe  book. 

"Really,  Mamma,  you  have  no  reason  to  feel  this  way.  I'm 
sure  Jim  was  as  attentive  to  you  as  you  let  him  be." 

"Well,  it  was  mere  politeness.  He  wasn't  at  all  interested 
in  anything  I  said." 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  know  how  you  know.  He  listened  to 
everything  you  said  to  him.  Of  course  he  doesn't  know  any 
of  the  people  you  talked  about,  and  he  isn't  good  at  small 
talk,  and  besides  you  talked  almost  entirely  to  John,  but  I 
thought  he  was  very  nice." 

"Very  patronizing,  you  mean,  Lucy.  I  can  see  very  plainly 
that  he  has  a  low  opinion  of  women — except  you,  of  course. 
He  seemed  anxious  enough  to  talk  to  you." 

"Mamma,  I  wish  you  wouldn't  speak  that  way." 

"Speak  what  way?" 

Lucy  paused  in  her  task  and  gazed  steadily  at  her  mother. 

"You  know  perfectly  well,  Mamma.  The  reason  he  talked 
to  me  was  that  you  wished  it,  and  besides  I  ask  you  not  to 
talk  about  Jim  in  that  tone." 

"Well,  anyone  could  see  that  he  was  crazy  to  be  with  you," 
Nannie  began  angrily. 

"Mamma !"    Lucy  was  indignant. 

Her  mother's  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"Why,  Lucy,  I  don't  see  how  you  can  twist  my  words  so. 
I  didn't  mean  there  was  anything  between  you." 


BLIND   MICE  93 

Lucy  gasped. 

"Who  said  you  did?"  she  ejaculated,  articulating  with  dif- 
ficulty. "I  only  meant  that  you  were  unjust  to  Jim." 

Mrs.  Merwent  continued  to  regard  her  daughter  reproach- 
fully. 

"You  don't  know  him,  Mamma.  He's  the  very  best  kind  of 
a  man,"  Lucy  went  on  more  gently. 

"Yes !  I  suppose  I  am  incapable  of  appreciating  him.  Well, 
you  seem  to  at  any  rate,"  Nannie  taunted. 

Lucy  paused  ominously. 

"Well,  Mamma,  if  you  don't  like  him,  I  can't  help  it,"  she 
resumed  at  last  in  an  odd  strained  voice.  "He's  our  friend, 
but  I'm  not  responsible  for  him  or  his  opinions.  You'll  just 
have  to  like  him  or  dislike  him  for  yourself." 

"I  never  said  I  disliked  him,"  retorted  Nannie.  "I  said  he 
disliked  me.  Any  one  would  think  to  hear  you  talk  that  he 
was " 

"Suppose  we  don't  discuss  it  any  longer,  Mamma,"  Lucy 
interrupted  shortly. 

"Oh,  very  well.  If  I  had  known  you  couldn't  bear  to  have 
the  slightest  hint  of  criticism  of  him  I'd  have  kept  still." 

Lucy  said  no  more. 


XII 

The  friendship  between  John  and  Jim  was  of  the  sort  that 
has  its  roots  deep  in  the  past.  They  had  been  playmates  and 
chums  since  early  childhood. 

Jim  was  two  years  the  elder  and  one  of  his  first  memories 
was  of  wishing  he  had  a  mother  like  John's.  His  own  mother 
had  died  when  he  was  an  infant  and  Mrs.  Winter  gave  the 
lonely  child  many  a  happy  hour  mothering  him  along  with 
her  own  child. 

Jim's  father,  a  dry  minded  man  who  owned  a  hardware 
store,  was  mystified  by  the  boy's  quaint  fancies. 

"Are  the  flowers  lonesome  at  night?"  the  child -asked  Mr. 
Sprague  one  day.  And  once  when  it  was  raining  he  said, 
"The  sky  is  crying  and  the  trees  are  sorry,"  as  the  latter  bent 
in  the  wind. 

His  father  always  laughed  at  such  speeches  and  advised  him 
not  to  be  a  fool.  At  first  Jim  would  slip  from  the  room  and 
weep,  but  later  he  learned  to  conceal  his  hurt  feelings  as  his 
father  whipped  him  if  he  found  him  crying.  So  the  child 
gradually  acquired  the  habit  of  keeping  his  thoughts  to  him- 
self. 

Though  Jim's  faith  in  things  mystical  had  in  early  child- 
hood been  the  most  eager  and  ardent,  he  was  the  first  of  the 
two  boys  to  become  a  sceptic.  'Mr.  Sprague  in  his  hard- 
ware store  had  a  business  which  seemed  to  be  an  appropriate 
emblem  of  his  nature,  and  he  had  never  attempted  to  meet 
his  imaginative  son  half  way;  but  it  was  Jim's  own  habit  of 
inquiry  regarding  the  world  around  him,  rather  than  the  fault 
of  his  unsympathetic  parent,  which  brought  about  a  change 
in  his  childish  outlook. 

"I  don't  believe  in  Santa  Claus  any  more,  John,"  he  con- 
fessed the  first  Christmas  after  his  faith  had  forsaken  him. 

"Well  /  do!"  John  answered  indignantly.  "He's  going  to 

94 


BLIND    MICE  95 

bring  me  a  new  sled  too.  You're  jealous  because  he's  not  go- 
ing to  bring  you  one."  And  John  ran  away  out  of  earshot  of 
heresy. 

Jim  went  home  and  threw  himself  face  downward  on  the 
bed  in  the  bare  room  where  he  and  his  father  slept.  While  he 
lay  there  he  admitted  to  himself  that  he  was  jealous  of  John 
but  that  did  not  alter  his  painfully  won  conviction. 

Jim  loved  companionship  with  animals.  A  tailless  cat,  a 
lame  gosling,  chickens,  and  anything  else  that  needed  care, 
shared  his  affection.  If  one  of  these  outcasts  became  ill  he 
ministered  to  it  as  though  it  were  a  baby.  One  Sunday  he  sat 
for  three  hours  holding  a  dying  puppy  in  his  lap. 

Mr.  Sprague  did  not  like  pets  and  was  often  cruel  to  Jim's 
charges,  refusing  food  for  them.  Then  Jim  would  deny  him- 
self and  save  the  food  from  his  plate  for  his  proteges.  His 
father  grew  angry  at  this,  regarding  it  as  disobedience  to  the 
spirit  of  his  commands,  and  one  day  ordered  Jim  to  turn  the 
pets  loose,  in  his  rage  kicking  a  little  puppy.  Jim  rebelled  and, 
as  was  usual  on  such  occasions,  was  whipped.  As  soon  as  his 
father  released  him  Jim  gathered  up  the  hurt  puppy  tenderly. 
After  this  he  tried  to  keep  his  pets  out  of  his  father's  sight. 

At  school  John  was,  as  a  rule,  the  head  of  his  class,  but  Jim 
always  had  to  help  him  with  his  mathematical  problems.  Jim 
never  obtained  more  than  fair  marks  except  in  mental  arith- 
metic, in  which  study  he  rapidly  became  the  pride  of  all  his 
teachers. 

Although  Jim  took  the  initiative  and  led  in  all  their  games 
and  expeditions  it  was  tacitly  understood  that  John  was,  in 
some  way,  the  superior  of  the  two.  This  tradition  dated  from 
their  earliest  memories.  It  was  not  founded  solely  on  the 
fact  that  John  had  a  mother,  for  John's  father,  too,  was  a 
cultured  man  and  wrote  for  a  religious  review,  while  Jim's 
only  sold  hardware.  Even  in  later  years  when  Jim  faced  life 
and  weighed  values  this  attitude  never  quite  left  him. 

During  their  high  school  days  John  fell  in  love  with  Gertie 
Pierce,  who  had  red  cheeks  and  yellow  hair.  This  lifted  him 
still  higher  in  Jim's  opinion.  John  wrote  poetry  about  Gertie, 
which  he  read  to  Jim.  In  these  poems  he  called  her  a  "dryad," 


96  BLIND   MICE 

explaining  to  Jim  what  the  word  meant,  and  pointing  out  how 
beautifully  it  rhymed  with  "sad." 

As  a  rule  Jim  paid  scant  attention  to  his  girl  acquaintances 
and  schoolmates.  They  made  him  uneasy  with  their  giggling 
and  whispering,  and  he  always  imagined  that  they  were  talk- 
ing about  him  and  making  fun  of  him. 

After  his  graduation  from  high  school  Jim  entered  his 
father's  store.  It  had  been  decided  that  John  was  to  go  to 
college  and  he  left  the  following  autumn.  Jim,  robbed  of  the 
old  companionship,  felt  his  isolation  more  than  ever  before 
in  his  life.  He  wanted  something,  he  hardly  knew  what.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  life  was  cheating  him,  but  he  looked  in 
vain  for  understanding  from  the  boys  and  girls  with  whom 
he  had  grown  up.  Occasional  enthusiastic  letters  from  John 
in  which  college  life  was  described  to  the  stay-at-home,  not 
without  a  note  of  condescension,  added  to  Jim's  dissatisfac- 
tion and  unrest. 

One  day,  about  a  month  after  John's  departure  to  attend 
college,  a  young  widow  of  the  town,  Mrs.  Johnson,  whom  Jim 
had  often  seen  on  the  street  and  admired  for  her  brilliant 
coloring  and  dashing  though  somewhat  overdressed  appear- 
ance, came  into  Mr.  Sprague's  hardware  store.  She  wished  to 
order  some  gas  fittings  for  her  house,  which  was  being  re- 
modeled. Jim  had  heard  laughing  references  to  her  powers 
as  a  siren  and  these  remarks  were  of  a  nature  that  reflected 
rather  darkly  on  her  moral  conduct,  so  when  he  went  forward 
to  wait  on  her  it  was  with  some  inward  trepidation. 

He  advised  her  to  choose  plain  square  brass  brackets 
which  he  thought  much  prettier  than  the  ornate  scrolled  gilt 
ones  which  she  seemed  to  prefer.  She  hesitated  and  then 
looked  up  at  him. 

"Well,  if  you  think  these  are  prettier,  I'll  take  them.  Please 
have  them  sent  around  to  the  house  this  afternoon,  for  the 
plumbers  are  coming  tomorrow." 

Jim,  put  at  his  ease  by  her  deference  to  his  taste,  promised, 
and  carried  over  the  fixtures  himself  about  three  o'clock. 
Mrs.  Johnson  met  him  at  the  door.  Jim,  remembering  the 
very  stylish  street  costume  she  had  worn  that  morning,  was 


BLIND   MICE  97 

somewhat  taken  back  by  the  sight  of  her  none  too  clean  wrap- 
per, run  over  slippers,  and  hair  loose  down  her  back. 

"Come  in,"  she  invited,  smiling  and  showing  extremely 
pretty  teeth.  "If  I'd  known  it  was  you  who  were  coming  I'd 
have  fixed  myself  up.  Take  a  seat,"  she  continued  volubly, 
laughing  as  she  removed  some  sewing  from  a  chair.  "I'm  all 
alone." 

Jim  deposited  his  hat  and  bundle  on  a  table  in  the  center  of 
the  room  and  seated  himself.  She  drew  another  chair  for 
herself  very  close  to  his. 

"I  expect  I  look  the  limit !"  she  exclaimed,  leaning  her  head 
back  and  shaking  her  hair  out  in  a  rippling  cascade  over  her 
shoulders.  "I've  been  washing  my  hair." 

Jim  glanced  timidly  at  her  wide  opened  pale  blue  eyes, 
smooth  fair  skin,  pink  cheeks,  and  the  rounded  arm  which 
was  displayed  to  advantage  as  she  modestly  held  her  wrapper 
together  over  a  salient  bosom.  The  sunlight  fell  on  her  blond 
hair  which  was  really  exquisite. 

"I  think  you  look  beautiful,"  said  Jim  impulsively,  turning 
very  red  at  his  own  temerity. 

"I  could  almost  kiss  you  for  that,"  she  answered  with 
another  laugh.  "Wait  till  I  get  you  some  beer  to  pay  you 
for  your  compliment,"  and  she  rose  and  went  toward  the 
kitchen,  humming  a  tune  as  she  disappeared. 

Jim's  gaze  followed  her.  Delia  Johnson  made  a  pleasant 
picture  and  Jim  had  missed  the  shallowness,  indolence,  and 
sensuality  in  her  face  and  the  incipient  heaviness  in  her  figure. 
As  her  yellow  hair  was  lost  to  view  through  the  doorway  he 
gave  a  sigh. 

She  returned  in  a  few  minutes  with  a  bottle  of  beer  and 
two  glasses. 

"Good  luck,"  she  chattered,  laughing  once  more  as  she 
poured  a  glass  for  him  and  another  for  herself. 

They  clinked  glasses  and  drank,  Jim,  who  did  not  like  the 
taste  of  beer,  being  careful  not  to  make  a  wry  face. 

"Don't  you  smoke,  Mr.  Sprague?"  she  asked  when  they  had 
finished  the  beer. 

Jim  did  not  smoke,  but  in  view  of  Delia's  eyes  and  the  "Mr." 


98  BLIND    MICE 

he  answered,  "Yes,"  adding,  "but  I  haven't  any  cigars 
with  me." 

"I'll  get  you  some  cigarettes,"  she  offered,  opening  a  drawer 
in  the  table.  "I'll  have  one  too,"  she  went  on  with  her  inevi- 
table laugh,  as  she  removed  a  cigarette  from  the  package  be- 
fore handing  it  to  him. 

They  smoked  a  moment  in  silence,  Delia  inhaling  her  cig- 
arette with  evident  pleasure. 

"Are  you  a  partner  in  your  father's  business  ?"  she  inquired, 
at  length,  knocking  the  ash  from  her  cigarette. 

"No,"  returned  Jim  hastily,  "I'm  only  clerking  for  him. 
I've  just  finished  high  school." 

"How  much  does  he  pay  you  ?"  she  pursued. 

She  was  smiling  at  him  bewitchingly  and  Jim  put  aside  the 
crudeness  of  her  questions. 

"He  don't  pay  me  anything,"  he  admitted  honestly. 

"That's  better,"  she  declared.  "It  shows  that  he  intends  to 
give  you  a  share  in  the  concern." 

Jim  shook  his  head  dubiously. 

"I  don't  know  about  that." 

"You're  his  only  child,  aren't  you?" 

"Yes." 

"Of  course  he  will,"  she  affirmed  with  emphasis,  "and  in 
time  you'll  have  it  all.  He's  rich,  isn't  he?" 

"Why,  no,"  began  Jim. 

"Pretty  well  fixed,  anyway,"  she  put  in  laughing.  "Well, 
there's  many  that  would  like  to  be  in  your  shoes,  Mr. 
Sprague." 

Jim  placed  his  half  finished  cigarette  on  the  ash  tray. 

"Have  some  more  beer?"  she  queried. 

"No,  thank  you." 

"What's  your  given  name  ?"  she  demanded  suddenly. 

"James."    He  was  smiling  now. 

"Do  they  call  you  Jimmie?" 

"No,  Jim,"  he  replied,  glancing  at  her  hair. 

"Then  I'm  going  to  call  you  Jim  too." 

"All  right,  Mrs.  Johnson,  I'm " 

-"You  mean  thing!"  she  interrupted.  "I  don't  believe  you 
like  me  a  bit!" 


BLIND   MICE  99 

Jim  looked  surprised. 

"Do  you  ?"  she  insisted. 

"Why,  yes."  He  studied  her  a  moment,  then,  with  increas- 
ing emphasis,  "Of  course  I  do.  I  like  you  fine." 

She  reached  over  and  touched  his  cheek  lightly. 

"Then  you  must  call  me  Delia,"  she  stipulated,  and  added, 
"I  like  you,  too,  Jim,  awfully  well." 

He  blushed  and  trembled  a  little  at  the  caress. 

"I — I  must  go,"  he  stammered,  rising. 

"Don't  be  in  such  a  hurry,"  she  pleaded.  "Let's  talk  a 
minute." 

Jim  hesitated  and  then  reseated  himself.  Delia  moved  her 
chair  a  little  farther  from  him. 

"Wasn't  that  awful  in  the  morning's  paper  about  their  kill- 
ing the  strikers  in  Chicago?"  She  spoke  in  a  more  imper- 
sonal tone. 

Jim  drew  a  long  breath. 

"I  think  it's  terrible !"  he  exclaimed.  "Those  men  have  no 
other  way  of  protesting  against  injustice  than  by  striking." 

"The  paper  says  they're  trying  to  wreck  business." 

"They're  not  any  such  thing!"  he  insisted.  "They're  most 
of  them  fathers  of  families  and  dependent  on  their  wages. 
It's  nonsense  to  suggest  such  things.  What  they  want  is 
enough  to  live  on." 

"You  aren't  an  anarchist,  are  you  ?" 

"No,"  he  disclaimed,  "but  I  hate  lies  and  hypocrisy,  and 
that  sheet"  (pointing  to  the  paper  lying  on  the  floor  where 
Delia  had  dropped  it)  "is  in  the  pay  of  the  capitalists,  and 
poople  read  it  and  swallow  any  dope  they  hand  out.  This 
country  will  never  progress  till  labor  is  represented  in  the 
capital  at  Washington  and — and  until  things  are  reorganized 
on  a  basis  of  justice  and  equality,"  he  concluded  rather  lamely. 

He  was  flushed  and  seemed  somewhat  startled  by  his  own 
outburst. 

"My,  but  you  think  a  lot !"  Delia  applauded  admiringly. 

"It's  time  men  began  to  think,"  resumed  Jim,  encouraged. 
"It's  the  duty  of  citizens  to  think  and  act.  The  good  men  stay 
away  from  the  polls  and  let  things  slide,  and  the  bad  element 


100  BLIND    MICE 

gets  in  its  dirty  work,  and  the  poor  suffer.  When  I'm  old 
enough  to  vote  I'm  never  going  to  miss " 

"Why,  aren't  you  twenty-one  yet  ?"  put  in  Delia. 

Jim  was  abashed. 

"I'm  only  seventeen  past,"  he  admitted  reluctantly. 

"You  look  at  least  twenty-two  or  three,"  she  insisted. 

Jim  was  pleased  and  grateful. 

"And  you  understand  things  so  well.  I  like  to  hear  you  ex- 
plain them,  but  I  can't  talk — only  about  women's  things." 
Delia  looked  demure. 

Jim,  who  as  a  rule  talked  little  on  any  subject,  was  uncom- 
fortable over  having  expressed  himself  so  freely.  Delia 
changed  the  subject  again. 

"Have  you  seen  Will  Bennett  since  his  wife  died?"  she  in- 
quired. 

"No/'  replied  Jim,  relieved. 

"I  saw  him  yesterday  on  the  street,"  said  she.  "Did  you  go 
to  the  funeral  ?" 

"No,"  answered  Jim  again. 

"He  looked  as  chipper  as  a  sparrow.  That's  the  way  men 
are.  The  funeral  was  beautiful,"  and  Delia  launched  into  a 
minute  description  of  the  obsequies,  Jim  listening  attentively. 

"I  really  must  go,"  he  declared,  at  last,  rising  once  more  as 
she  concluded,  and  extending  his  hand. 

"Well,  you  must  drop  in  again  to  see  me,"  she  invited,  hold- 
ing his  hand  as  she  spoke.  "I've  enjoyed  it  immensely." 

"Thank  you.    So  have  I,"  returned  Jim. 

She  released  him  as  he  took  his  hat  from  the  table,  and  fol- 
lowed him  to  the  door. 

"Don't  forget,"  she  smiled. 

"I'll  not  forget,"  he  smiled  back. 

When  Jim  returned  to  the  store  Mr.  Sprague  looked  up 
from  his  ledger. 

"It  took  you  a  long  time  to  deliver  those  fixtures,"  he 
grumbled. 

"I — I  didn't  come  right  back,"  stammered  Jim. 

Mr.  Sprague  scrutinized  his  son's  flushed  face. 

"I  should  think  you  didn't.  Well,  next  time  you  come  right 
back!  Do  you  hear?* 


BLIND    MICE  101 

Jim  passed  behind  the  counter  without  replying. 

Jim  remembered  his  promise  to  Delia.  He  thought  of  her 
almost  constantly  during  his  waking  hours.  The  day  follow- 
ing his  visit  he  walked  past  her  house.  The  plumbers  were 
laying  gas  pipe  from  the  street  through  the  yard.  He  did  not 
see  Delia  and  went  on. 

"It's  too  soon  yet,"  he  said  to  himself. 

The  next  day  he  passed  the  house  again.  The  window  shut- 
ters were  all  closed  and  he  did  not  ring  the  bell,  telling  him- 
self that  Delia  was  not  at  home.  He  continued  to  pass  the 
house  once  or  twice  every  day,  without  asking  for  admit- 
tance, wondering  each  time  if  she  were  there,  or  if  some  one 
else  were  with  her,  or  if  she  really  meant  that  she  wanted  him 
to  come  again.  He  was  amazed  that  such  a  beautiful  woman 
had  remained  without  remarrying.  He  had  decided  that  the 
slurs  cast  on  her  reputation  were  unjust.  She  was  too  in- 
nocent-hearted and  Bohemian.  The  narrow  minded  people 
who  made  up  the  population  of  the  town  could  not  understand 
her.  Jim  found  her  like  the  heroine  of  a  French  novel  he  had 
been  reading.  He  dreamed  about  her  at  night. 

About  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  a  week  after  his  first 
visit,  he  passed  her  house  as  usual  and  saw  no  sign  of  life. 
He  proceeded  down  the  street  and  walked  a  block  or  two. 
Then  he  retraced  his  steps.  As  he  came  by  the  house  again 
he  heard  someone  call  his  name.  Before  he  could  decide 
what  to  do  the  curtains  in  a  window  were  parted  and  Delia's 
smiling  face  confronted  him. 

"Why  don't  you  come  in,  Jim?"  she  called. 

He  hesitated. 

"Wait,  and  I'll  unlock  the  door,"  she  added,  and,  with  a 
final  smile,  left  the  window. 

Jim  entered  the  gate,  and  had  not  crossed  the  small  lawn 
when  the  door  was  opened. 

"You  mean  thing!  You  wouldn't  have  come  in  at  all  if  I 
hadn't  called  to  you !"  was  her  greeting. 

"I  thought  you  weren't  at  home,"  he  explained. 

"Well,  let's  not  talk  about  it,"  she  said,  shutting  the  door. 
"You're  here  anyway.  I've  been  wondering  what  had  become 


102  BLIND    MICE 

of  you.  I  thought  you  had  gone  out  of  town.  Sit  down  and 
tell  me  about  yourself,"  she  invited,  leading  the  way  to  the 
sitting  room  he  remembered  so  well.  "Here!  Give  me  your 
Tiat.  You're  at  home  here." 

Jim  was  surprised  to  feel  himself  suddenly  at  ease. 

Delia  chatted  volubly,  smiling  and  laughing,  without  giving 
him  an  opportunity  to  talk  about  himself.  She  produced  a 
flattering  atmosphere  of  dependence  and  admiration  that  led 
Jim  unconsciously  to  assume  the  part  of  the  conquering  male. 

"You  didn't  really  forget  me,  did  you?"  she  asked,  her  in- 
gratiating manner  anticipating  his  reply. 

"Not  quite,"  Jim  told  her  with  new-found  assurance. 

Delia  gazed  into  his  eyes  a  moment  and  came  over  to  his 
•chair  and,  bending  down,  put  her  cheek  against  his. 

"You  didn't,  did  you,  Jim  ?"  she  repeated  in  a  whisper. 

He  drew  her  to  him  and  kissed  her  on  the  mouth. 

Delia  was  in  a  fresh  wrapper,  with  her  beautiful  hair  be- 
comingly arranged,  and  a  scent  of  violets  clung  about  her.  Jim 
•was  considerably  surprised  at  his  own  passion. 

"You  naughty  boy!"  she  cried,  laughing.  Then  she  sat  on 
his  knees  and  pulled  his  hair.  Jim  kissed  her  again. 

This  was  the  beginning  of  frequent  visits  which  soon  be- 
came daily. 

"I  see  you're  hanging  around  that  Johnson  woman,"  Jim's 
father  remarked  one  evening  at  supper. 

Jim  turned  pale,  then  red,  and  poured  himself  some  more 
tea  without  replying. 

"You  stay  away  from  there.  Do  you  hear?"  the  elder 
Sprague  went  on. 

"I  hear,  but  I'll  do  as  I  see  fit,"  retorted  Jim. 

"You'll  do  as  7  see  fit,  or  I'll  know  the  reason  why,"  snapped 
his  father. 

"Father,"  began  Jim,  "I'm  old  enough  to " 

"Old  enough  be  damned!"  Mr.  Sprague  fairly  roared. 
"'You're  old  enough  to  do  what  I  tell  you  until  you're  twenty- 
one  years  old,  and  that  ain't  all — you'll  do  what  you're  told, 
if  you  expect  to  stay  in  my  house !" 

Jim  rose  and  seized  his  hat. 

"I  don't  intend  to  have  you  running  around  with  a  bitch 


BLIND    MICE  10a 

like  that  at  your  age,"  continued  the  older  man,  as  though 
closing  the  discussion. 

"You  have  no  right  to  call  her  that!"  Jim's  eyes  flamed 
as  he  faced  his  father  excitedly. 

"How  do  you  know  what  right  I've  got?"  asked  Sprague 
unmoved. 

"Be  careful  what  you  say,"  Jim  was  pale  with  anger,  his 
fists  clenching. 

Mr.  Sprague  looked  at  his  son  with  interest.  Jim  felt  very 
young  and  at  a  disadvantage.  He  turned  to  go. 

"Just  see  that  you  remember  what  I  said,"  Sprague  com- 
manded, as  the  boy  reached  the  door. 

Jim  went  out  without  a  word.  He  went  straight  to  Delia's 
house. 

"Who  is  it?"  a  voice  demanded,  as  he  knocked,  forgetting 
to  ring  the  bell. 

"It's  Jim,"  he  replied. 

The  sound  of  bare  feet  in  the  hall  was  heard,  and  Delia, 
unlocking  the  door,  pulled  at  his  sleeve. 

"Come  in,  Jim,"  she  whispered. 

Jim  began  to  explain  his  errand  as  soon  as  they  reached 
the  sitting  room. 

"Delia,  we  must  be  married  at  once,"  he  announced. 

She  was  yawning,  but  stopped  to  gaze  at  him  curiously.  Jim 
returned  her  regard  steadily.  He  was  in  deadly  earnest.  Her 
eyes  avoided  him  but  he  continued  to  observe  her  hungrily. 
Her  wrapper  had  fallen  open  at  the  neck  and  the  swell  of 
her  full  white  breasts  showed.  Her  hair  was  in  two  long 
braids. 

"Why,  Jim.  what's  the  matter?  We're  all  right  as  we  are." 
She  yawned  again. 

"Something  has  happened,  Delia.  I  owe  it — that  is,  it  is 

best  for  us  to  be "  He  fell  back  on  his  first  declaration,. 

"We  must  be  married  right  away." 

Delia  went  up  to  him  and  put  her  arms  around  his  neck. 
Her  loose  sleeves  slid  back.  As  he  looked  down  on  her  he 
could  see  only  her  white  arms  and  bosom. 

"People  know.  I've  got  you  talked  about,"  he  said  as  she 
kissed  him. 


104  BLIND    MICE 

Delia  laughed. 

"I  don't  care  about  that,"  she  assured  him. 

Jim  was  puzzled. 

"Come  and  sit  down,  dearie,"  she  added,  pushing  him  into 
a  chair  and  seating  herself  on  his  knees. 

"But,  Delia " 

"We  can't  get  married  now,  Jim,"  she  said.  "You  haven't 
anything  to  support  us  and  if  I  marry  I'll  lose  all  the  money 
Johnson  left  me." 

Jim's  face  showed  his  revulsion  of  feeling.  Delia  saw  the 
change  and  clung  to  him. 

"Let's  just  love  each  other,  Jim,  and  everything  will  come 
out  all  right." 

"But,  Delia,  I  want  to  do  what's  right  and " 

She  kissed  him  passionately.  Jim  felt  a  curious  sense  of 
drifting. 

"Come  on,  dearie,"  she  whispered. 

It  was  late  when  Jim  left  the  house. 

Mr.  Sprague  said  nothing  more  to  Jim  on  the  subject  of 
Delia,  which  circumstance  disconcerted  and  worried  the  boy 
more  than  he  was  willing  to  admit  to  himself. 

He  tried  to  consider  the  matter  calmly  but  his  thoughts 
seemed  to  dissolve  in  a  mist  of  beautiful  hair,  wide  opened  blue 
eyes,  and  white  arms  and  bosom. 

"She  is  right,"  he  told  himself.  "We  can't  marry  now,  and 
we  love  each  other  so  much  that  we  must  be  all  in  all  to  each 
other." 

However,  his  conscience  made  him  very  miserable.  He  felt 
that  one  who  had  no  religion  should  be  morally  strong.  With 
all  this  he  continued  to  go  to  Delia's  house. 

He  did  not  understand  why  she  designated  certain  eve- 
nings for  his  visits  and  forbade  him  to  come  on  others.  One 
evening,  rather  late,  feeling  very  lonely  and  very  much  in 
love,  he  turned  his  steps  toward  her  house,  notwithstanding 
the  fact  that  it  was  a  proscribed  day. 

He  had  nearly  reached  the  gate  when  a  man  emerged  from 
the  doorway,  and  Jim,  halting  beneath  one  of  the  large  trees 
that  shaded  the  sidewalk,  recognized  his  father. 


BLIND    MICE  105 

His  first  feeling  was  of  anger  that  he  was  being  spied  upon, 
but  this  turned  to  amazement  and  cold  rage  as  Delia  called 
Sprague  back  and,  through  the  half  closed  door,  kissed  him, 
straightening  his  hat  which  she  had  knocked  awry,  calling, 
"Good  night,  dearie,"  as  he  went  off. 

Jim  watched  his  father  disappear,  and,  after  a  moment's 
hesitation,  walked  away  with  rapid  strides.  He  sought  his 
home  when  it  was  daybreak. 

The  old  standards  by  which  Jim  had  measured  values  were 
of  no  more  use  to  him. 


XIII 

Jim  came  to  look  at  the  world  and  people  with  clearer  eyes. 
He  saw  that  his  father  kept  him  in  the  store  to  save  clerk 
hire  and  not  with  any  intention  of  giving  him  a  share  in  the 
business.  He  realized  that  he  had  no  home  or  career  in  his 
native  town.  He  thought  matters  out  very  carefully  and  fully. 

One  morning  at  breakfast,  after  reading  a  letter  just  re- 
ceived from  John,  the  complacent  tone  of  which  threw  his 
own  forlornness  into  relief,  he  announced  to  his  father  that 
he  was  going  away  to  college.  . 

"You're  going  to  stay  right  where  you  are,"  responded  Mr. 
Sprague  from  his  side  of  the  table. 

"No,  I'm  going,"  repeated  Jim  quietly. 

"Well,  you  won't  get  a  cent  from  me,"  exclaimed  his  father 
with  the  air  of  saying  the  last  word  in  an  argument.  "I  sup- 
pose this  is  another  of  the  fool  notions  you've  got  from  that 
Winter  boy." 

"I  didn't  expect  anything  from  you,"  explained  Jim. 

Mr.  Sprague  passed  one  hand  over  his  stubbly  chin  and  re- 
garded his  son  with  cold  curiosity.  The  elder  Sprague  was 
burly  and  inclined  to  stoop.  He  wore  reading  glasses  and 
now  he  peered  through  them  with  as  much  detachment  as  an 
entomologist  who  has  a  mildly  interesting  insect  under  the 
microscope.  He  was,  as  usual,  in  his  shirt  sleeves,  and  his 
deliberate  untidiness  of  dress  seemed  the  aggressively  flaunted 
signal  of  that  coarseness  of  spirit  which  was  a  matter  of  pride 
with  him. 

"Don't  fool  yourself  into  thinkin'  I  don't  mean  what  I  say," 
he  remarked. 

A  month  after  this  incident  Jim  informed  his  father  that  he 
was  leaving  for  college. 

"Well,  remember,  you  needn't  come  back,"  Mr.  Sprague 
told  him. 

106 


BLIND    MICE  107 

Jim  went  to  the  station  alone,  carrying  a  small  bundle  under 
his  arm,  and  climbed  on  the  car  unnoticed.  As  the  train  pulled 
out  of  the  place  he  looked  back  on  the  little  town.  This  was 
his  last  glimpse  of  his  childhood  home. 

He  arrived  at  college  with  one  suit  of  clothes,  a  few  extra 
shirts  and  other  accessories,  and  three  dollars  in  his  pocket, 
having  borrowed  the  money  from  Dr.  Winter,  John's  father, 
to  pay  for  his  ticket.  His  first  act  was  to  hunt  up  John  who 
received  him  with  his  old  affection. 

"Gee,  but  I'm  glad  to  see  you !"  John  exclaimed  boisterously, 
slapping  Jim  on  the  back. 

He  insisted  that  Jim  share  his  room  and  allowance,  but  Jim 
had  no  intention  of  being  dependent  on  anyone.  He  shoveled 
snow,  cared  for  the  furnaces  in  the  college  dormitory,  sawed 
wood  and  split  kindling  for  the  families  near  the  campus,  and 
by  working  early  and  late  managed  to  remain  in  the  college 
and  even  won  the  scholarship  in  mathematics.  The  first 
money  he  earned  above  his  living  expenses  was  sent  back  to 
pay  the  debt  he  had  incurred  for  his  journey. 

He  and  John  now  shared  room  and  funds  on  equal  terms 
and  Jim,  by  imperceptible  degrees,  assumed  his  old  responsi- 
bility for  John's  welfare  and  progress. 

John  had  never  really  decided  what  his  profession  or  oc- 
cupation should  be.  Jim  brought  the  question  up  by  declaring 
that  he  did  not  intend  to  follow  a  stated  college  course  but 
planned  to  fit  himself  to  be  an  architect.  John  believed  him- 
self a  born  artist  and  talked  of  studies  in  Rome  and  Paris 
after  his  course  in  college  was  ended.  One  day  he  rushed 
into  the  room  and  flung  his  cap  into  a  corner. 

"Jim!"  he  cried  enthusiastically,  "I've  decided  to  be  an 
architect  too!"  He  went  on  to  talk  of  the  opportunities  of 
the  true  artist  in  a  profession  that  had  lured  the  greatest 
masters  from  the  Greeks  to  Michelangelo. 

"But  modern  architecture  is  more  of  a  science  than  an  art," 
Jim  pointed  out.  "The  calculations  of  stresses  and  strength 
of  materials  has  more  to  do  with  it  than  the  Visions  of  a 
dream  in  marble'  you  are  talking  about." 

However,  John  was  not  to  be  dissuaded  and  the  two  boys 


108  BLIND    MICE 

were  soon  entered  in  the  special  courses  marked  in  the  in- 
stitution's catalogue  as  leading  to  proficiency  in  architectural 
science. 

John's  difficulty  with  mathematics  was  a  handicap  in  most 
of  these  courses,  and  Jim  had  to  help  him  in  his  work  as  in 
the  days  of  their  early  boyhood.  Notwithstanding  this  aid, 
John  (who  always  took  high  marks  in  more  general  courses) 
found  it  hard  to  keep  pace  with  his  fellows,  and,  after  the  end 
of  the  first  semester,  decided  to  abandon  their  plan.  It  was 
only  Jim's  initiative  and  generous  giving  of  time  to  help  him 
that  decided  John  on  the  continuation  of  their  design. 

John  always  went  home  for  the  holidays  and  vacations, 
while  Jim  stayed  on  alone  in  the  almost  empty  dormitory, 
working  and  studying. 

The  characteristics  of  the  two  boys  became  more  evident 
as  they  approached  majority.  John  conceived  confidence  in 
anybody  who  pleased  him,  each  new  acquaintance  possessing, 
for  the  time  being,  all  the  perfections.  Jim  developed  an  al- 
most uncanny  insight  into  the  motives  of  those  around  him, 
and  was  slow  to  form  friendships. 

"Never  mind  what  people  say,"  he  would  tell  John.  "Fix 
your  attention  on  finding  out  why  they  say  it.  That's  the  way 
to  get  at  things." 

When  they  graduated,  or  rather,  completed  their  courses, 
for  neither  received  his  degree,  Jim  began  work  at  once  in  an 
architect's  office  in  the  college  town,  and  settled  down  with  his 
customary  methodical  perseverance  to  make  a  place  for  him- 
self. John  returned  home  for  a  few  months  and  then  per- 
suaded his  parents  to  send  him  to  the  Art  School  in  Chicago 
to  study  what  he  felt  to  be  the  higher  aspects  of  his  profes- 
sion. 

Soon  after  his  entrance  into  the  School  of  Art  he  returned 
to  painting,  and  left  designing  to  study  oils  and  water  color 
work.  The  former  companions  were  separated  but  exchanged 
frequent  letters  and  remained  as  close  friends  as  ever.  John 
always  thought  of  Jim  as  "good  old  Jim."  Jim  never  quite 
analyzed  his  feelings  for  John,  much  as  he  loved  to  evaluate 
the  motives  of  others.  He  had  always  needed  and  would  al- 


BLIND    MICE  109 

ways  need  some  one  to  care  for,  and  John  was  in  his  life.  He 
did  not  go  further  than  this. 

A  year  after  their  separation,  Jim's  employer  gave  him  a 
share  in  the  small  business,  and,  dying  a  few  months  later,  left 
Jim  in  full  charge  of  his  affairs.  Jim,  whose  success  and 
promise  had  been  noticed  by  many,  easily  borrowed  enough 
capital  to  buy  the  business  outright  from  the  heirs,  and  in  a 
brief  period  had  paid  his  debt  and  won  the  independent  op- 
portunity of  which  he  had  dreamed  for  years. 

It  was  not  many  months  after  this  that  John,  in  one  of  his 
letters,  interested  his  friend  by  announcing  that  he  had  fallen 
in  love,  and  by  raving  in  a  school  boy  fashion  over  the  object  of 
his  devotion.  Jim  for  some  time  had  considered  the  wisdom 
of  transferring  his  business  to  Chicago.  It  seemed  to  have 
reached  the  limit  of  development  in  the  little  college  town, 
and  he  was  anxious  for  a  field  that  put  no  restrictions  on  his 
ability.  John's  letter  spurred  him  to  a  decision  as  to  the  fu- 
ture and  he  replied  with  the  news  that  he  was  coming  to  the 
city  himself,  and  asked  John  to  meet  him  at  the  station.  At 
their  first  sight  of  each  other  they  renewed  the  old  familiar 
relation. 

John  discussed  everything  with  all  his  former  frankness  and 
enthusiasm  and  Jim,  listening,  felt  more  than  ever  that  John 
was  his  to  care  for  and  watch  over. 

"But  what  are  you  going  to  do  to  support  a  wife?"  was 
Jim's  first  question. 

"Jim,  I'm  through  with  experiments.  I'm  going  to  work," 
replied  John  earnestly. 

"Where?"  asked  Jim. 

"I've  got  a  place  as  a  draughtsman  with  Layard's,  a  big 
building  supply  firm  here,"  the  younger  man  explained.  "Life 
is  serious  now  and  I'm  going  to  do  something." 

Jim  said  no  more. 

The  following  day  John  took  him  to  call  on  Lucy  Merwent. 

The  two  young  men  went  into  partnership  a  few  weeks 
before  John  and  Lucy  were  married  and  it  was  not  many 
months  before  it  was  evident  that  the  business  venture  was 
succeeding  on  a  fairly  safe  basis. 


110  BLIND   MICE 

Nora  Stimpson,  the  red-haired  art  student  of  Miss  Storms' 
first  party,  called  on  Lucy  after  the  wedding.  She  also  came 
to  the  office  several  times  to  see  John,  and  each  time  the  two 
talked  and  laughed  like  old  friends.  She  smiled  on  Jim  in  a 
most  friendly  manner.  He  managed  to  be  in  the  office  when- 
ever she  was  there  but,  as  his  air  was  far  from  cordial,  she 
finally  ceased  visiting  them. 

The  business  developed  but  never  became  important.  John 
did  the  draughting  and  Jim  attended  to  the  practical  details  of 
specifications  and  dealt  with  contractors. 

When  Lucy's  baby  was  born  it  was  christened  James 
Sprague  Winter.  The  second  year  after  their  marriage  John 
paid  a  flying  visit  to  his  parents ;  and  on  one  occasion  Dr.  Win- 
ter attended  a  church  convention  in  Chicago  and  stayed  a 
week  with  his  son  and  daughter-in-law.  He  questioned  Lucy 
regarding  her  soundness  in  doctrine  and  was  aghast  at  her 
honest  replies.  Nevertheless  he  liked  her  and  carried  back  to 
Dimmie's  grandmother  a  favorable  report  of  "J°hn's  wife-" 

Jim  matured  and  developed  during  the  years  after  John's 
marriage,  but  he  who  had  long  ago  learned  to  understand 
others  never  quite  came  to  understand  himself.  Lucy  did  not 
puzzle  him,  but  it  was  only  after  knowing  her  that  he  realized 
the  idealism  and  emotionalism  of  John.  The  realization  did 
not  cool  his  affection.  He  only  smiled  to  himself  when  his 
friend  allowed  enthusiasm  to  blind  discretion,  and  said,  "John 
has  his  rose-colored  spectacles  on  again." 

While  his  old  idolatry  of  John  was  thus  tempered  by  ripen- 
ing judgment,  it  was  an  incident  of  brief  duration  and  ap- 
parently trivial  consequence  that  caused,  as  Jim  thought,  the 
scales  to  fall  from  his  eyes  and  forced  him  entirely  to  turn, 
with  a  feeling  of  slight  bitterness,  to  Lucy  rather  than  her  hus- 
band for  the  expression  of  the  hidden  things  in  his  nature.  • 

The  involuntary  arbiter  of  Jim's  spiritual  destiny,  accord- 
ing to  his  own  interpretation,  was  a  pretty  Irish  girl,  Miss 
Brennan,  whom  he  and  John  had  employed  as  their  accountant 
and  stenographer.  She  was  a  silly,  sentimentally-inclined 
young  woman  who  accepted  admiration  indiscriminately  from 
all  sources.  She  had  troubles,  the  chief  of  which  were  a 
drunken  father  and  a  cross-grained  mother. 


BLIND    MICE  111 

Under  the  influence  of  John's  expansive  sympathy,  which 
she  soon  appraised,  her  secrets  were  unfolded  to  him  and  he, 
with  constant  ardency,  accepted  the  role  of  father  confessor. 
She  did  not  like  Jim,  whose  disapproval  she  felt,  and  most  of 
her  interviews  with  John  were  reserved  for  hours  when  the 
two  were  almost  certain  not  to  be  interrupted.  She  was  a 
devout  Roman  Catholic  and  John,  under  her  tutelage,  began 
to  evince  a  sudden  interest  in  Catholicism. 

"You  know  that  little  Miss  Brennan,  she's  so  beautifully 
simple,"  he  told  Jim  one  day  at  luncheon.  "I  happened  to  be 
passing  her  church  when  she  was  going  in  the  other  day  and 
just  for  curiosity  I  went  in  with  her.  Catholicism  is  the  only 
religion  left  for  an  artist  anyway.  You  don't  know  how  much 
it  affected  me  when  I  saw  how  in  earnest  she  was  with  her 
beads  and  genuflections.  The  whole  thing  reminded  me  of  a 
mediaeval  picture.  It's  about  the  only  naive  thing  left  in  our 
sophisticated  age." 

"Catholics  may  be  naive  but  not  the  Catholic  Church,"  re- 
marked Jim  unsympathetically.  He  was  not  thinking  of  ques- 
tions of  religious  feeling  however  as  he  studied  John's  face. 
John  was  irritated  by  this  scrutiny. 

"You  seem  to  have  lost  all  your  temperamental  appreciation 
of  things,  Jim,"  he  observed  in  a  vexed  tone. 

The  first  confirmation  which  Jim's  unadmitted  suspicions  re- 
ceived came  when  John  insisted  on  raising  Miss  Brennan's 
salary. 

"She's  almost  the  only  dependence  of  her  family,  and  the 
things  she  has  to  put  up  with  to  keep  things  going  are  pitiful," 
he  declared. 

"How  much  do  you  think  we  ought  to  give  her  ?"  asked  Jim. 

John  hesitated,  and,  glancing  away  as  he  spoke,  named  the 
sum  Miss  Brennan  had  suggested,  which  almost  doubled  the 
amount  she  was  receiving. 

There  was  a  brief  pause. 

"We  can't  afford  to  turn  the  business  into  a  philanthropic 
enterprise,"  Jim  answered  laconically. 

It  was  the  next  day  that  Jim,  entering  the  office  at  an  un- 
anticipated moment,  surprised  Miss  Brennan  in  tears  and 
John  soothing  her  with  unconventional  tenderness.  Jim  passed 


11«  BLIND    MICE 

on  into  the  draughting  room,  not  seeming  to  observe  the  con- 
fusion of  the  pair,  and  it  was  John  himself  who,  with  a  guilty 
air,  referred  to  the  subject  an  hour  later  when  the  stenog- 
rapher was  out  for  luncheon. 

"I  guess  you  were  surprised  when  you  came  in  and  found 
Miss  Brennan  crying  like  that  ?"  he  suggested. 

"Not  particularly."  Jim  looked  out  the  window  as  he  spoke. 

"But  Miss  Brennan — Jim,  she's  got  the  most  wonderful  lot 
of  grit!  It  makes  a  fellow  spiritually  sick  to  see  a  woman 
young  and  pretty  as  she  is  up  against  such  an  awful  proposi- 
tion !"  And  he  launched  into  a  eulogy  of  Miss  Brennan  which 
embraced  all  of  the  adjectives  which  Jim,  on  other  occasions, 
had  heard  him  apply  to  Lucy. 

The  day  following  Jim  waited  until  John  had  gone  around 
the  corner  to  Layard's  to  get  some  prices  on  furnishing  lum- 
ber, and  he  and  Miss  Brennan  were  the  sole  occupants  of  the 
office. 

"Miss  Brennan,"  he  announced,  "I  want  to  tell  you  that 
your  service's  are  not  required  any  longer.  Your  salary  will 
be  paid  until  the  end  of  the  month." 

Miss  Brennan  opened  her  lips  to  speak.  She  looked  into 
Jim's  eyes.  Her  small  mouth  quivered. 

"Why  I  don't  know  what  you  mean!  Mr.  Winter " 

She  hesitated,  eyeing  Jim  an  instant  with  fear  and  bewilder- 
ment. Then  a  confused  understanding  dawned  in  her  face. 

"I  was  never  so  insulted  in  my  life,  Mr.  Sprague !"  she  ex- 
claimed indignantly,  a  catch  in  her  voice. 

Jim  did  not  answer,  and  two  large  tears  rolled  down^her 
cheeks  as  she  moved  away  from  him. 

When  John  returned  to  the  office  Jim  was  walking  up  and 
down  the  inner  draughting  room,  smoking.  His  tall  shadow, 
as  he  paced  back  and  forth,  moved  across  the  ground  glass 
partition.  Miss  Brennan  outside  had  on  her  hat  and  coat. 

Jim  heard  John's  exclamation  and  knew  that  she  was  break- 
ing the  news  to  him.  In  a  few  moments  sobs  were  audible. 
John  opened  the  inner  door.  His  face  was  crimson.  He 
and  Jim  stared  at  one  another  like  strangers. 

"What  the  hell  does  this  mean,  Jim?"  John  demanded,  his 


BLIND    MICE  113 

voice  shaking  with  suppressed  feeling  and  his  manner  almost 
threatening. 

"I  think  you  know  about  as  well  as  I  do,  John." 

"The  devil  I  do !  I  won't  have  it,  that's  all !  It's  a  shame !" 
He  seemed  ready  for  battle  as  he  spoke. 

"All  right,  John,"  answered  Jim  quietly. 

John  went  out  into  the  office  again,  slamming  the  door  be- 
hind him. 

Miss  Brennan  was  close  to  the  corridor  entrance. 

"I  think  I'd  better  go,  Mr.  Winter.  You  are  so  good  to  me, 
but  I  couldn't  stay  in  Mr.  Sprague's  employ,"  she  answered, 
when  John  insisted  on  her  remaining. 

So  she  went  away,  and  whether  she  and  John  met  again 
was  a  mystery  which  Jim  did  not  try  to  solve,  but  he  felt 
that  he  had  at  least  kept  the  affair  from  reaching  a  develop- 
ment which  would  come  to  Lucy's  ears. 

The  partners  tacitly  avoided  employing  a  successor  to  Miss 
Brennan,  going  across  the  hall  of  their  office  building  to  a 
public  stenographer,  when  a  stenographer  was  necessary, 
while  Jim  posted  and  cast  their  accounts  in  his  room  each 
evening  after  his  day's  work. 

The  incident  caused  a  passing  coolness  between  them.  In- 
deed there  were  some  weeks  during  which  John  scarcely  spoke 
to  Jim.  The  clouds  were  dispelled  however.  John  showed  a 
sudden  warmth  and  simultaneously  came  an  invitation  to  din- 
ner from  Lucy. 

Jim  did  not  question  the  impulse  or  try  to  guess  whether  it 
had  originated  with  John  or  his  wife.  He  was  too  anxious  to 
accept  any  terms  which  allowed  him  to  go  to  the  Winter  home 
as  before  and  enjoy  the  companionship  of  Lucy  who>  treated 
him  like  a  good  friend  and  a  brother. 

John  told  himself,  after  the  incident  of  the  stenographer, 
that  he  was  a  little  disappointed  in  Jim,  who  lacked  the  quali- 
fications for  comprehending  the  finer  feelings,  but  the  change 
in  John's  regard  did  not  appear  on  the  surface. 

Jim  remained  the  counselor  for  the  family  in  all  practical 
matters,  and  was  looked  upon  by  the  expansive  Dimmie  as  al- 
most the  equal  of  his  father.  Jim  paid  frequent  visits  to  the 


114  BLIND    MICE 

house  at  Rosedene,  often  remaining  from  Saturday  until  Mon- 
day. A  bedroom  which  Lucy  had  referred  to  as  "Jim's  room" 
when  the  house  was  under  construction,  was  always  at  his 
disposal,  and  when  he  was  present  Lucy  accepted  him  with  a 
naturalness  and  lack  of  ceremony  which  he  found  more  flat- 
tering than  the  most  exaggerated  attention. 

After  his  return  from  Rosedene  on  the  night  of  his  first 
tete-a-tete  with  Mrs.  Merwent,  who  had  rather  taken  his 
breath  away  by  her  display  of  mingled  clumsiness  and  cunning, 
he  sat  and  smoked  in  silence  in  his  room  until  very  late.  An 
amazing  new  factor  had  entered  his  world.  As  he  finally  grew 
sleepy  and  prepared  himself  for  bed,  he  decided  that  his  first 
problem  was  to  help  Lucy  in  her  immediate  predicament. 

"Poor  child,"  he  murmured  as  he  knocked  out  his  last  pipe 
and  lay  down. 


XIV 

It  was  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning  and  Rosedene  was  look- 
ing its  best.  The  late  spring  weather  was  perfect  and  the 
flower  beds  and  shrubs  about  the  Winters'  home  were  faintly 
misted  with  bloom. 

Lucy  was  weeding  a  border  of  violets  and  Dimmie  assisted 
her.  She  wore  a  clean  gingham  dress  and  the  customary 
wide  apron.  An  old  hat  tied  on  with  a  black  silk  ribbon,  and 
worn  gloves  of  John's  completed  her  costume.  There  was  a 
light  wind  and  her  skirts  billowed  out  as  she  bent  over  the 
flowers  and  the  ribbon  under  her  chin  fluttered. 

"Don't  sit  down  in  the  mud.  You'll  take  cold,  Dimmie," 
Lucy  admonished,  observing  the  clayey  tint  on  the  seat  of 
Dimmie's  rompers  as,  panting  and  perspiring  with  his  exer- 
tions, he  laboriously  replanted  an  uprooted  violet. 

Nannie  came  in  from  the  street.  She  had  been  seeing  John 
off  to  his  train  and  was  in  a  simple  but  charming  morning 
costume. 

"I  met  the  postman  on  the  way,"  she  observed  as  she  stood 
removing  her  gloves. 

"Were  there  any  letters  for  us?"  Lucy  asked. 

"None  for  you.  I  got  one."  Nannie  hesitated.  "It  was 
from  Professor  Walsh,"  she  added,  laughing  rather  uneasily. 

"So  you've  read  it  already,  have  you?"  Lucy  smiled  as 
she  spoke  but  did  not  look  up  from  her  work. 

"Now,  Lucy,  you  are  trying  to  make  game  of  me !" 

"Indeed  I'm  not,  Mamma.  I  always  like  to  see  what's  in  a 
letter  as  soon  as  I  get  one." 

"I  didn't  have  to  think  very  hard  to  guess  what  would  be 
in  this  one.  The  poor  man  is  so  alone  in  Russellville.  You 
know  yourself  how  in  a  small  place  there  are  so  few  really 
cultured  people."  Mrs.  Merwent  smoothed  out  the  fingers  of 
the  gloves  she  held. 

us 


116  BLIND    MICE 

"I  thought  you  always  stood  up  for  Russellville,  Mamma," 
Lucy  said. 

"Now,  Lucy,  I  didn't  mean  of  course  that  there  were  no 
really  well  bred  people  in  Russellville.  There  are  few  enough 
here  in  the  North,  heaven  knows,  but  Professor  Walsh  is  an 
unusually  well  educated  man." 

"Yes.  There  are  few  enough  anywhere,"  Lucy  continued, 
ignoring  Mrs.  Merwent's  last  allusion. 

"But  you  and  John  lead  such  an  isolated  life,"  Nannie  went 
on.  "I  don't  see  how  you  can  judge.  Don't  you  know  any  of 
your  neighbors,  Lucy?" 

"Well,  we  haven't  any  neighbors  in  the  sense  we  used  to 
have  in  Russellville,  but  there  are  a  few  really  pleasant  people 
near  by.  There  are  the  Hamiltons  just  back  of  us.  She  is  the 
one  who  sent  the  jellied  chicken  for  our  luncheon  the  day  you 
came.  Don't  put  so  much  water  on  the  flowers,  dear."  (This 
last  remark  was  addressed  to  Dimmie.) 

Dimmie  began  to  drum  on  the  tin  sprinkler  with  a  trowel. 

"Jimmie,  for  heaven's  sake  stop  that  noise,"  exclaimed  Nan- 
nie. "You'll  split  my  head.  I  can't  hear  myself  talk." 

Dimmie  ceased  drumming  and  ran  off  to  swing. 

"Of  course  I  know  you  don't  have  neighbors  like  in  small 
towns,"  Nannie  pursued,  speaking  to  Lucy  again,  "but  I  don't 
mean  people  like  the  Hamiltons.  I  meant  your  social  circle. 
Don't  you  know  any  smart  people  ?" 

"I  think  the  Hamiltons  are  very  nice,"  said  Lucy  slowly. 
"We're  very  small  potatoes  here,  Mamma." 

"Well,  at  home  children  of  the  first  families  move  in  the 
best  society,  even  if  they  are  poor." 

"We  don't  belong  to  the  first  families."  As  Lucy  talked 
she  was  pulling  weeds  from  among  some  clumps  of  jonquils. 

"Well,  you  certainly  do,  and  John  has  told  me  that  his 
father  is  a  distinguished  clergyman,  and  his  mother  is  one  of 
the  Montgomerys  of  Virginia." 

"We  only  know  a  few  people  and  those  slightly,"  explained 
Lucy,  still  intent  on  her  task.  "We  don't  go  out  much  and 
when  we  do  we  only  go  to  a  theatre  or  concert  with  Jim." 

"That's  just  it,  Lucy !  You  make  no  attempt  to  get  out  into 
the  world.  All  these  years  you've  done  nothing  at  all.  If 


BLIND    MICE  117 

you'd  started  at  once,  by  now  you  would  be  at  least  on  the 
outskirts  of  good  society,  and  as  fast  as  John  made  more 
money  you  could  get  into  more  select  things.  It's  a  woman's 
duty  to  advance  herself  all  she  can." 

"We  none  of  us  care  for  society,  Mamma,  even  if  we  could 
afford  it." 

"  'We' — who  do  you  mean  by  'we/  Lucy?" 

"Why  John  and  Jim  and  me,  of  course,"  replied  Lucy  with 
some  surprise. 

"That's  just  it,  Lucy!  It's  Mr.  Sprague  who  doesn't  like  to 
have  you  go  out.  John  is  as  fond  of  society  as  anyone  could 
be.  I'll  tell  you  candidly,  I  think  you  are  making  a  great  mis- 
take in  letting  an  outsider " 

Lucy  had  paused  in  her  weeding. 

"I  thought  we  had  decided  not  to  discuss  Mr.  Sprague," 
she  put  in  with  an  approach  to  irritation. 

"Oh,  dear  me !  Now  I've  done  it  again !  I  declare,  Lucy, 
you  are  certainly  abnormally  sensitive  on  the  subject  of  Mr. 
Sprague,"  Nannie  complained,  hastening  on  to  prevent  a  re- 
ply, "but  it's  certainly  dull  never  seeing  anybody  from  one 
day's  end  to  another.  I  don't  mean  for  myself.  It  makes  no 
difference  about  me.  But  for  your  own  sake  you  ought  to 
go  out  occasionally,  and  have  a  few  friends  in  once  in  a 
while." 

Lucy  returned  to  her  jonquils. 

"I  expect  it  does  seem  rather  quiet  to  you,  Mamma.  I've 
gotten  so  used  to  it  I  don't  notice  it.  We'll  have  to  take  in 
a  theatre  some  evening  this  week.  I'll  have  John  get  tickets." 

"You  needn't  do  it  on  my  account,  but  I  really  think  it 
would  do  you  good.  You  are  stuck  here  in  the  house  night 
and  day.  Doesn't  anyone  besides  Mrs.  Hamilton  ever  call  on 
you?" 

"Yes.  At  least  a  number  did  call,  but  I'm  not  very  good  at 
keeping  up  formal  acquaintances,  and  most  of  them  have 
stopped.  Miss  Storms  used  to  come  here  often,  but  she's  so 
busy,  and  I've  gotten  into  the  habit  of  dropping  in  on  her  when 
I  go  down " 

"Lucy,  I  should  think  you'd  have  at  least  consideration 
enough  not  to  mention  that  woman  in  my  presence !" 


118  BLIND    MICE 

"Well,  Mamma,  we  won't  discuss  her  either  then,"  re- 
sponded Lucy  quietly. 

"Well,  of  course  people  will  call  on  me,  now  that  I'm  here." 

"I  doubt  if  anybody  knows  it  except  those  in  the  next 
houses,  and  we  only  know  them  by  sight." 

"You  oughtn't  to  let  yourself  be  forgotten  like  this,  Lucy. 
If  you  don't  push  yourself  a  little  nobody  will  notice  you." 

Lucy  straightened  up  from  her  work.     She  was  thinking. 

"I'll  invite  a  few  women  acquaintances  out  to  meet  you, 
Mamma.  Maybe  you'll  like  some  of  them,  and  it  will  give  you 
a  chance  to  get  out  a  little  afterwards." 

"I  don't  like  to  think  of  your  going  to  trouble  and  expense 
for  me." 

"It  won't  be  much  trouble  or  expense." 

"You  could  have  a  little  tea,  couldn't  you?  You  make 
such  darling  little  cakes  and  sandwiches." 

"All  right,  we'll  do  it." 

"Now  you're  sure  it's  not  too  much  for  you,  Lucy  ?" 

"Quite  sure,"  affirmed  Lucy,  smiling. 

"I'm  sure  it's  very  nice  of  you.  I'll  help  decorate  the  table. 
I  must  look  through  my  trunks  and  fix  up  something  to  wear." 

Lucy  bent  over  her  plants. 

John  that  night  approved  the  plan  for  the  tea. 

"You  can  get  some  things  from  the  caterer's,"  he  suggested. 

Lucy,  however,  counting  the  money  on  hand,  decided  to 
prepare  the  refreshments  herself.  She  asked  two  young  girls 
who  lived  near  to  help  her  serve,  and  the  simple  affair  was 
conducted  without  a  hitch. 

Nannie's  toilette,  made  by  herself,  was  the  admiration  of 
all,  and  she  referred  to  her  home  and  friends  in  Russellville 
in  a  way  that  made  several  of  the  ladies  wish  they  might  see 
her  in  such  lovely  surroundings. 

One  of  the  guests  was  a  Miss  Powell,  a  voluptuous  and  very 
smartly  dressed  brunette.  She  was  evidently  impressed  with 
Nannie. 

"I  suppose  you  will  find  it  hard  to  stay  long  away  from  Rus- 
sellville, even  to  be  with  your  daughter,"  remarked  the  new 
acquaintance. 


BLIND    MICE  119 

"Oh,  I  hope  to  stay  a  little  while  yet,  Miss  Powell,"  re- 
turned Nannie  laughing.  "It's  been  so  long  since  we  could 
arrange  it  to  be  together  and  we  are  both  enjoying  it,"  she  de- 
clared, becoming  serious. 

When  the  guests  had  gone,  Lucy  bravely  attacked  the  huge 
pile  of  dishes  in  the  kitchen  sink. 

"Are  there  any  sandwiches  left,  Lucy?"  Mrs.  Merwent  in- 
quired, entering  the  room  where  Lucy  was  in  the  midst  of  her 
work. 

Lucy  indicated  a  plate  which  had  been  set  aside  with  the 
idea  that  it  might  contribute  to  the  morrow's  luncheon. 

"We've  been  in  such  a  rush  all  day  that  I've  hardly  had  time 
to  eat  anything,"  Nannie  explained  as  she  helped  herself  to 
the  largest  sandwich.  "I  wish  you  would  leave  all  those 
things  until  I  get  back.  I  promised  to  meet  John,"  she  went 
on  as  she  selected  her  second  sandwich. 

"I  must  finish  up  and  put  dinner  on,"  Lucy  informed  her 
mother  somewhat  irritably. 

Mrs.  Merwent  halted  in  the  kitchen  doorway. 

"I  hope  you  aren't  displeased  because  I  promised  to  meet 
John,"  she  challenged  resentfully. 

"Oh,  Mamma,  please  don't  start  any  argument  now !"  Lucy 
exclaimed. 

Nannie  gave  her  daughter  a  reproachful  glance  and  turned 
away  without  speaking,  even  the  set  of  her  shoulders  as  she 
left  the  room  expressing  offended  virtue. 

She  changed  her  frock  and  went  to  meet  John's  train  as  she 
had  been  in  the  habit  of  doing.  When  he  alighted  from  the 
car  it  was  not  yet  dusk.  Nannie  stepped  out  of  the  crowd  to 
greet  him.  They  smiled  at  each  other,  and  a  few  moments 
later  were  walking  back  to  the  house  together,  their  arms 
linked. 

"Keep  step,  Nannie."  John,  amused  by  the  shortness  of  her 
stride,  admonished  her  gaily.  Mrs.  Merwent  looked  up  at 
him  and  they  both  laughed. 

"You  have  to  work  so  hard,  yet  no  matter  how  tired  you 
are  you  are  so  cheerful,  John,"  she  said.  "It  ought  to  make 
Lucy  and  me  ashamed  of  ourselves." 

".What's  the  matter  with  you  and  Lucy?"  John  asked,  the 


120  BLIND    MICE 

cheerful  note  dying  out  of  his  voice.  Nannie  gave  him  a  quick 
side  look. 

"Why,  nothing,  John,  except  that  Lucy  is  upset  by  her 
day,  I  suppose.  She's  irritable  now  and  then,  you  know,  but 
I  certainly  don't  hold  it  against  her." 

There  was  silence  for  a  moment. 

"John,"  Nannie  continued  diffidently,  "Lucy  misunder- 
stands so  many  things I've  been  wanting  to  ask  you  a 

favor  and  I  didn't  dare  do  it !" 

John  glanced  down  at  her. 

"I'm  not  afraid  of  Lucy  if  you  are,  Nannie,"  he  pro- 
tested, smiling,  but  with  his  brows  still  fretfully  corrugated. 

"I  want  you  to  cash  a  check  for  me.  It — it — Professor 
Walsh  was  the  only  person  I  could  go  to  for  help,  John,  and 
he  has  been  kind  enough  to  take  charge  of  my  financial  affairs. 
I  know  so  little  of  such  things.  The  check  is  from  him,"  she 
finished  apologetically. 

"I  don't  see  why  you  have  to  depend  on  Proiessor  Walsh 
while  I'm  here !"  John  answered,  dropping  her  arm. 

"But  remember,  John,  I  didn't  know  until  I  got  here " 

She  stopped  speaking,  then  added,  "it  is  hard  not  to  treasure 
it  up  against  Lucy  when  I  think  how  long  her  siding  with  her 
father  against  me  kept  us  from  knowing  each  other,  John." 

John  did  not  reply  at  once. 

"I  understand,  Nannie,"  he  said  after  a  minute. 

"Here  is  the  check.  It's  already  endorsed.  I  knew  you 
would  realize  in  what  a  position  I  was  placed — without  a 
person  in  the  world  to  call  on !"  Mrs.  Merwent's  voice  broke. 

John  took  the  check  and  put  it  in  his  inside  pocket. 

"Lucy  is  not  as  charitable  as  she  might  be,  John,"  Nannie 
sighed,  taking  his  arm  again. 

They  walked  on  in  silence. 

"I  wish  Professor  Walsh  would  choke!"  John  ejaculated 
in  a  savage  undertone,  as  they  entered  the  gate  at  their  destina- 
tion. 

Nannie  laughed  and  pressed  his  arm. 

"You  are  a  dear  boy,  John,"  she  whispered. 

Lucy  heard  them  come  in  laughing  and  talking.  Dimmie 
did  not  run  to  meet  them. 


BLIND    MICE  121 

"Is  dinner  ready?"  John  called  as  they  entered  the  dining 
room. 

"No,"  responded  Lucy. 

"Whew !"  he  exclaimed  with  mock  chagrin.  "Got  a  grouch 
on,  Lucy?" 

Busied  in  placing  on  the  table  those  of  the  dishes  which  she 
had  washed  to  use  for  the  evening  meal,  she  did  not  reply. 
Dimmie  appeared  behind  his  mother. 

"Hello,  son !  You  sore  too  ?  Why  didn't  you  come  with 
Nannie  to  meet  me  ?"  John  inquired  breezily. 

"I  did  want  to,"  acknowledged  Dimmie,  "but  Nannie  said 
I  couldn't." 

"Why,  Jimmie!"  Mrs.  Merwent  cried.  "What  an  awful 
story !"  She  turned  to  John.  "Did  you  ever  see  such  a  child ! 
Lucy  had  changed  his  clothes  after  the  ladies  left  and  I  only 
said  to  him  that  his  mother  was  too  tired  to  change  him 
again  just  to  go  out  for  a  few  moments." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  telling  an  untruth,  Dimmie?"  de- 
manded John. 

Dimmie  began  to  cry.    Lucy  took  the  child's  hand. 

"I  don't  see  any  untruth  fulness,"  she  contended.  "Mamma 
didn't  want  him  and  her  exact  wording  doesn't  matter." 

"Why,  Lucy,"  said  John  reproachfully,  "you  surely  don't 
think  your  mother  would " 

Nannie  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm. 

"Don't,  John,"  she  urged.  "Lucy  is  tired,  and  it's  really 
only  a  trifle.  Let's  talk  about  something  pleasant." 

"All  right,  but  I  must,  say  you're  awfully  good  natured, 
Nannie !" 

"I  saw  you  carrying  a  roll  of  something.  Did  you  get  my 
music?"  she  asked. 

"Yes.  It's  in  the  hall  with  my  hat.  Do  you  want  to  try 
it  now?" 

"Why,  if  there's  time  before  supper.    Is  there,  Lucy?" 

"Yes,"  said  Lucy,  and  John  and  Nannie  started  toward  the 
living  room. 

That  night  when  John  came  whistling  to  bed,  he  found 
Lucy  by  the  window  staring  out. 

"Why,  Lucy,  aren't  you  in  bed  yet?"  he  asked  cheerfully. 


122  BLIND    MICE 

"John,  I  wish  you'd  mow  the  lawn  again,"  she  said,  as 
though  not  hearing  his  question.  "It's  been  over  two  weeks 
since  you  did  and  it  looks  ragged.  You  used  to  keep  it  so 
beautifully." 

The  next  morning  Lucy  was  dusting  the  dining  room  furni- 
ture. 'Mrs.  Merwent  had  just  finished  her  usual  tardy  break- 
fast. 

"Who  was  that  woman  with  her  hat  stuck  on  the  back  of 
her  head  who  came  so  early  yesterday?"  she  asked,  pushing 
her  chair  away  from  the  table. 

Lucy  frowned  slightly. 

"I  suppose  you  mean  Mrs.  Hamilton.  I  never  noticed  how 
she  wore  her  hat  but  she  was  the  one  who  came  earliest.  I 
told  you  she  was  our  neighbor  when  I  introduced  you.  I  like 
her  the  best  of  all  those  who  were  here,"  Lucy  returned  with 
antagonistic  emphasis. 

"Well,  I  could  never  like  a  woman  who  wore  her  hat  like 
that,"  Nannie  asserted.  "Now  that  Miss  Powell  was  the 
smartest  one  present  at  your  tea.  The  way  she  put  her  hat  on 
had  real  dash  to  it.  She  studies  herself  and  dresses  to  bring 
out  her  points  to  the  best  advantage.  I  think  that  it's  a  woman's 
duty  to  look  as  well  as  she  can." 

"I  never  cared  for  Miss  Powell,"  said  Lucy  stubbornly. 
"She  always  seemed  so  selfish  to  me." 

"Well,  I  thought  she  was  nice,"  persisted  Nannie  injuredly. 
"Her  brother  is  William  J.  Powell  of  Powell  and  Powell. 
John  knows  the  firm.  She's  going  to  call  on  me  soon  and  be- 
fore the  season's  over  we're  going  to  a  matinee  together.  I 
tell  you,  Lucy,  you're  making  a  mistake,  living  by  yourself. 
You  owe  it  to  John  to  make  friends.  A  woman  can  advance 
her  husband  in  lots  of  ways  if  she's  clever  about  it." 

Lucy  opened  her  lips  to  speak  but  restrained  the  impulse 
before  she  had  put  her  reply  into  words. 

"Now  one  thing  we  could  do  to  extend  your  acquaintance 
would  be  to  have  nice  teas  on  Sundays,"  Nannie  resumed. 
"Then  you  could  have  friends  in,  and  in  time  keep  sort  of  open 
house  Sunday  e\  cnings." 


BLIND    MICE  123 

"We  can't  afford  extra  things,  Mamma.  Our  means  won't 
allow  it." 

"But,  Lucy,  it  wouldn't  cost  hardly  anything.  You  are  so 
clever  about  making  things.  Why  your  biscuits  and  fricasseed 
chicken  the  other  day  were  the  best  things  I  ever  tasted.  Let's 
try  it  next  Sunday." 

"But  whom  shall  we  invite,  Mamma?" 

"Let's  invite  your  friend,  Mr.  Sprague,"  suggested  Nannie 
smiling. 

"He's  not  my  friend  any  more  than  he  is  John's,  and  not  as 
much,"  said  Lucy  coldly. 

"Why,  Lucy,  who  said  he  was!  I  meant  yours  and  John's 
both.  I  only  wanted  to  please  you.  I  declare,  we  can't  mention 
Mr.  Sprague's  name  without  your  getting  offended." 

Lucy  changed  the  subject  and  did  not  refer  to  it  again,  but 
Nannie  brought  up  her  suggestion  when  John  came  home, 
and  he  seconded  the  plan  heartily. 

"Yes.  Let's  have  Jim  out  Sunday !"  he  cried.  "He's  moping 
around  these  days  like  he'd  lost  his  grandmother.  It'll  do  him 
good." 

"All  right,"  suddenly  agreed  Lucy.    "We  will." 

Nannie  seemed  surprised  at  her  ready  acquiescence. 


XV 

Jim  appeared  punctually  at  the  appointed  hour  on  Sunday 
evening.  It  had  been  a  brilliant  spring  day.  The  late  sunshine 
was  now  mellowed  by  shadows  that  fell  thick  on  the  front 
of  the  Winter  house  and  made  it  look  cool  and  inviting.  As 
he  came  up  the  walk  he  saw  Mrs.  Merwent  on  the  front  porch. 

She  wore  an  elaborate  white  lingerie  dress  with  a  wide 
lavender  sash.  She  had  just  cut  some  lilacs  from  the  bush 
under  the  dining  room  window  and  as  she  mounted  the  steps 
she  held  them  out  for  him  to  admire. 

"I  won't  offer  you  any  more  flowers,  Mr.  Sprague,"  she 
began,  referring  to  the  incident  of  the  boutonniere  on  the 
occasion  of  his  first  visit. 

"I'm  sorry,  Mrs.  Merwent.  They  are  certainly  pretty,"  Jim 
answered  without  returning  her  smile. 

"They  would  go  well  with  your  grey  suit  too,"  she  persisted 
teasingly. 

Jim  was  very  careful  of  his  attire  but  shy  of  personalities 
of  any  nature.  He  ignored  Mrs.  Merwent's  remark  and 
turned  to  John  who  had  just  emerged  from  the  house. 

"Hello,  John,"  he  called.    "Where's  Lucy?" 

"In  the  kitchen  as  usual."  John  laughed.  "She  seems  to 
have  adopted  cooking  as  her  life  work  lately.  It's  a  good 
thing  I  have  Nannie  to  console  me." 

Jim  scrutinized  John  but  did  not  speak.  The  three  made 
their  way  to  the  living  room. 

'  "Hello,    Uncle   Jim!     The   cookies   are  made   in    stars!" 
Dimmie  cried,  rushing  up  to  Jim  and  embracing  his  knees. 

"Everything  seems  to  be  in  gala  array,"  Jim  observed,  look- 
ing around  the  room  and  noticing  a  bowl  of  violets  and  nar- 
cissi, and  two  or  three  bunches  of  lilacs  on  the  piano  and 
mantel  shelf. 

"Nannie  is  a  real  artist  at  arranging  flowers,  Jim,"  John 
declared  admiringly. 

124 


BLIND    MICE  125 

Mrs.  Merwent  smiled. 

"With  John's  pictures  the  house  hardly  needs  any  other 
decoration,"  she  began.  "I  think  they're " 

"Come  and  see  Mamma,  Uncle  Jim,"  Dimmie  begged,  tug- 
ging at  Jim's  trouser  leg. 

"Did  she  tell  you  to  call  him,  Jimmie?"  Nannie  inquired 
quickly. 

"Come  on,  Uncle  Jim,"  Dimmie  begged,  not  heeding  his 
grandmother. 

"Answer  Nannie,  Dimmie,"  commanded  John  sternly. 

"She  won't  say  my  name,"  protested  Dimmie. 

"Do  what  I  tell  you.    Answer  Nannie." 

"Now,  John,  I'm  sure  Jimmie  doesn't  mean  to  be  rude." 

"Well,  he's  got  to  learn  not  to  be." 

"I  want  to  go  back  to  Mamma,"  wailed  Dimmie. 

"Come  along,  kid,"  Jim  said,  as  though  he  were  oblivious 
to  the  discussion  between  John  and  Nannie.  He  lifted  the 
child  to  his  shoulder  and  the  two  left  the  room. 

"Of  course  he  has  to  go  to  Lucy  as  soon  as  he  gets  here. 
There  are  few  men  as  big  souled  as  you,  John,  who  wouldn't 
resent  such  devotion  to  their  wives." 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean,  Nannie."  John  looked  at 
Mrs.  Merwent  in  a  worried,  perplexed  way. 

"Of  course  you  don't,  you  great-hearted  fellow!  Suppose 
we  go  out  on  the  veranda  until  tea  is  ready." 

Not  long  after  Lucy  sent  Dimmie  to  call  them  in. 

Nannie  and  John  praised  the  hot  biscuit  and  fricasseed 
chicken.  When  tea  was  over  they  returned  to  the  living  room 
leaving  Jim  and  Lucy  still  at  the  table. 

"I'm  going  to  sing  the  new  song  John  brought  me,"  Nannie 
explained  as  she  went  out. 

"Let's  go  too  so  we  can  hear  better,"  said  Lucy  to  Jim. 

Her  cheeks  were  flushed  and  her  eyes  were  unusually  bright. 
She  and  Jim  seated  themselves  near  the  piano,  Dimmie  perched 
on  Jim's  knee,  while  John  stood  by  Nannie  and  turned  the 
music  for  her. 

"I  think  it's  pretty.  Don't  you,  Jim?"  Lucy  commented 
when  the  last  notes  died  away. 

"Very,"  agreed  Jim. 


126  BLIND    MICE 

"'Pretty'  isn't  the  word,"  put  in  John.  "It's  a  beautiful 
little  gem.  And  how  well  Nannie  sings  it !  Don't  you  think 
her  expression  is  perfect  ?" 

"You'll  make  me  blush  if  you  don't  stop,  John,"  protested 
Nannie  with  her  silveriest  laugh. 

"Well,  I  want  you  to  be  appreciated,"  insisted  John  warmly. 

"Don't  you  think  we  appreciate  Mamma's  singing?"  asked 
Lucy. 

"You  don't  either  of  you  seem  much  moved  by  it,"  an- 
swered John. 

"Now,  John,"  interrupted  Nannie  soothingly,  smiling  up 
at  him. 

"Sing  that  other  one,  the  one  I  got  last  week,"  urged  John. 
"Here  it  is,"  and  he  laid  a  piece  of  music  open  on  the  rack. 

"Now  wait  a  minute!     Let  me  rest,"  Nannie  objected. 

There  was  a  pause. 

"Let's  not  sing  any  more  now.  You  forget  that  perhaps 
everybody  isn't  as  fond  of  music  as  you  are,  John,"  she 
began  after  an  awkward  moment. 

"Do  sing  it,  please,"  pleaded  Lucy.  "Jim  and  I  both  love 
music,  and  Jim  hasn't  heard  it." 

"No,  I'm  not  in  very  good  voice  tonight.  It's  a  mistake 
to  sing  when  you're  not  feeling  like  it.  You  lose  your  reputa- 
tion." 

"Please,"  Lucy  begged  again. 

"I  should  like  very  much  to  hear  it,"  Jim  joined  in. 

"Thank  you,  but  you'll  have  to  excuse  me  this  time,"  said 
Nannie. 

Again  silence  descended  on  the  little  group. 

"Singing  makes  me  thirsty,"  announced  Nannie  at  length, 
rising  and  moving  toward  the  dining  room. 

"Let  me  get  you  a  drink,"  offered  John,  following  her. 
"Don't  you  want  some  lemonade?  I'll  get  the  ice  for  you." 

"Let's  you  and  I  make  lemonade  for  everybody,"  proposed 
Nannie  as  they  entered  the  dining  room. 

"All  right,"  acceded  John  gleefully.  Then,  raising  his  voice, 
"You  two  stay  in  there.  Nannie  and  I  are  fixing  a  surprise 
for  you." 

"Good,"  said  Jim  grimly. 


BLIND   MICE  127 

For  a  moment  Lucy  sat  looking  at  Jim  without  a  word. 
The  voices  of  John  and  Nannie  and  the  tinkling  of  glasses 
and  ice  came  faintly  from  the  other  room. 

"You  can't  make  a  square  into  a  circle,  Lucy,"  Jim  began 
very  soberly,  breaking  the  silence. 

Lucy's  lip  quivered  and  her  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"Thank  you  for  understanding,  Jim,"  she  replied  unsteadily. 

Jim  glanced  at  her. 

"I'm  going  to  smoke,"  he  decided  sourly. 

Lucy  smiled. 

"I  wish  you  would,  Jim.  I  must  take  Dimmie  up  to  bed. 
I'll  be  right  down." 

She  led  the  child  away,  but  in  a  short  time  rejoined  Jim 
in  the  living  room.  He  was  walking  up  and  down.  His  pipe 
was  still  in  his  mouth  but  it  had  gone  out. 

"I  feel  better,"  she  informed  him.  "Dimmie  is  the  sweetest 
thing  after  he  gets  into  bed  at  night." 

"He's  a  great  kid,"  Jim  growled  approvingly. 

John  appeared  with  one  of  Nannie's  dainty  tea  aprons 
around  him,  carrying  a  tray  on  which  were  two  glasses. 
Nannie  followed  him  with  the  pitcher  of  lemonade. 

"Mrs.  Winter."  She  stopped  in  front  of  Lucy  and  made  a 
curtsey.  "Hold  the  tray  straight,  John,"  and  she  poured  one 
of  the  glasses  full. 

Lucy  took  it. 

"Do  you  think  the  mistress  is  pleased  with  us,  John?" 
Mrs.  Merwent  murmured,  with  mock  humility. 

"Give  Jim  some   too,   Mamma,"  Lucy  interrupted  gently. 

"Wait  a  minute!  I'm  going  as  fast  as  I  can,  Lucy!" 
Nannie  exclaimed  with  some  irritation. 

She  led  John  over  to  Jim. 

"Mr.  Sprague,"  she  said  with  another  curtsey. 

"Aren't  you  going  to  have  any,  Mrs.  Merwent?"  asked 
Jim. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Sprague,  the  mistress  wouldn't  like  us  to  drink 
with  the  gentlefolk,"  she  answered  coquettishly.  "We'll  have 
ours  later  in  the  dining  room." 

"That's  right,  Mary.  I'm  glad  to  see  you  know  your  place. 
I'm  strong  for  the  proprieties  myself,"  Jim  responded,  drink- 


128  BLIND    MICE 

ing  the  lemonade.  "You  needn't  wait,  either  of  you,"  he 
added,  returning  the  glass  to  the  tray.  "When  we  want  you 
we'll  ring  for  you."  Jim  was  gazing  straight  into  Nannie's 
eyes  and  she  tittered  uneasily. 

John  laughed  extravagantly. 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  he  said.  "Come  on,  Nannie,"  and  he 
departed,  followed  by  Mrs.  Merwent,  who  glanced  back 
covertly  at  Jim  as  she  passed  him. 

"Don't  you  see,  John!"  Nannie  exclaimed  as  soon  as  they 
reached  the  dining  room.  "They  had  rather  be  alone.  Lucy 
don't  want  us." 

"It  was  only  Jim's  way  of  joking.  He  didn't  mean  any- 
thing," John  explained  soothingly,  looking  worried  in  spite  of 
himself,  as  he  remembered  Nannie's  enigmatic  remark  earlier 
in  the  evening. 

"Yes,  he  did.  You  didn't  see  the  hostile  look  he  gave  me. 
Lucy  and  he  always  manage  to  make  us  seem  foolish !" 

"Now,  Nannie,  you're  imagining,"  said  John  soothingly. 
Lucy  didn't  say  anything. 

"That's  just  it!"  retorted  Mrs.  Merwent.  "She  never  does 

but  she  always  sees  to  it  that  she  and  Mr.  Sprague " 

Nannie's  eyes  and  mouth  opened  for,  chancing  to  turn,  she 
saw  Lucy  in  the  doorway. 

"Lucy,  you're  spying  on  us!  I  didn't  think  you'd  stoop  to 
do  a  thing  like  that !"  she  cried  excitedly,  recovering  from  her 
surprise. 

"No,  I  wasn't,  Mamma.  I  came  to  ask  you  and  John  to 
come  into  the  sitting  room,"  replied  Lucy,  eyeing  her  mother 
squarely. 

"I  won't  stand  it!"  cried  Nannie  hysterically,  and  as  she 
spoke  she  almost  ran  into  the  hall,  and  seizing  a  scarf  as  she 
passed  the  hat  and  umbrella  stand,  went  out,  slamming  the 
front  door  behind  her. 

John  stood  undecided  and  uneasy  by  the  dining  table. 

"Lucy,  you  oughtn't  to  have  come  in  like  this  without  say- 
ing a  word "  he  faltered. 

"Why  not?"  demanded  Lucy. 

"Because — because — Nannie  wasn't  saying  anything,"  he 
stammered. 


BLIND    MICE  129 

Lucy  turned  to  leave  the  room. 

"Where  do  you  think  she's  gone?"  he  asked  nervously. 

"I  don't  know,"  replied  Lucy. 

"Shall  I  go  and  look  for  her  ?"  he  continued. 

"I  don't  know,"  she  repeated,  and  disappeared  into  the  sit- 
ting room. 

As  Lucy  entered  the  room  where  Jim  was  the  front  door 
clicked  after  John.  She  seated  herself  in  a  chair  near  Jim. 

"Don't  you  think  I'd  better  go  home,  Lucy?"  queried  Jim 
in  a  low  voice. 

"Please  don't  go,"  she  begged,  laying  a  hand  on  his  sleeve. 
"Let's  talk." 

"What  about  ?"  he  asked  with  a  grimace. 

"Tell  me  about  when  you  were  a  little  boy,  Jim.  Don't  you 
wish  we  never  had  to  grow  up!" 

"No,"  replied  Jim.  "But  I'll  tell  you  about  my  first  day  in 
school,"  he  added  with  a  slight  smile. 

"All  right."  Lucy  smiled  back  at  him  and  settled  herself 
comfortably  in  her  chair. 

She  wore  a  dress  of  blue  and  white  striped  voile  that  was 
deeply  open  at  the  throat,  and  Lucy's  throat  was  youthfully 
lovely.  To  Jim  she  appeared  more  girlish  than  he  had  ever 
seen  her. 

"The  teacher  whipped  a  little  girl  and  I  bit  him  in  the  leg 
to  make  him  stop,"  began  Jim. 

"Tell  me  all  about  it,"  begged  Lucy,  drawing  her  chair 
closer. 

It  was  nearly  an  hour  before  John  and  Nannie  returned. 

"What  do  you  suppose  is  keeping  John  and  Mrs.  Mer- 
went  ?"  Jim  had  repeated  uncomfortably  more  than  once  before 
the  time  had  elapsed. 

"I  don't  know,  Jim.  Go  on  with  what  you  were  telling," 
Lucy  always  answered. 

Jim  had  frowned  but  resumed  his  narrative. 

All  the  while  Lucy  showed  no  perturbation  whatever  at  the 
continued  absence  of  her  mother  and  husband.  Jim  told  story 
after  story  of  his  boyhood  experiences,  she  asking  questions 
and  adding  comments  at  which  they  both  laughed. 


130  BLIND    MICE 

When  John  and  Mrs.  Merwent  entered  the  house  they  came 
through  the  hall  straight  into  the  living  room. 

"We've  been  for  a  walk,"  John  announced  breezily.  "It's 
a  great  night.  Did  you  people  see  the  moonlight?" 

"I  hadn't  noticed,"  said  Jim. 

Nannie's  eyes  showed  traces  of  tears  and  her  voice  was 
subdued. 

"You  two  look  cosy  in  here,"  she  remarked  as  if  in  search 
of  something  to  say. 

"We  have  been,"  Lucy  told  her. 

"Well,  I  must  go."     Jim  rose. 

"Hadn't  you  better  stay  till  morning  ?"  John  suggested. 

"No." 

Lucy  was  silent. 

After  good  nights  were  exchanged  Jim  left  the  house. 

"I'm  going  to  bed."  Nannie  did  not  speak  to  any  one  in 
particular. 

"Good  night,"  responded  John  and  Lucy,  and  Mrs.  Mer- 
went ascended  the  stairs. 

"I  could  hardly  get  her  to  come  back,"  John  told  Lucy  after 
they  had  gone  to  their  room.  "She's  so  sensitive,  Lucy.  She 
talked  about  the  way  you  felt  toward  her.  She  doesn't  think 
you  have  ever  gotten  over  your  old  hard  feelings." 

"It  wasn't  my  hard  feelings,  John."  Lucy  spoke  in  an  emo- 
tionless tone. 

"Now,  Lucy,"  John  remonstrated,  "anyone  would  think  that 
you  and  I  were  perfect  and  nobody  but  Nannie  was  ever  to 
blame  for  anything."  Lucy  was  silent  and  he  went  on.  "She 
was  so  upset  she  talked  about  going  home  and  marrying  that 
Professor  Walsh.  I  must  say  I  think  things  are  pretty  bad 
when  your  own  mother  feels  as  though  she  was  so  little  at 
home  in  her  daughter's  house  that  she  has  to  turn  to  a  man 
like  that "  He  stopped. 

"It's  your  house,  too,  John,"  put  in  Lucy,  her  lip  quivering. 

"Well,  heaven  knows,  I  don't  want  to  run  her  out  of  it !"  he 
answered  pettishly. 

Lucy  lay  down  on  the  bed,  her  face  turned  away  from  him. 
No  more  words  passed  between  them  and  soon  John,  at  least, 
was  sleeping. 


XVI 

The  morning  following  Jim's  visit  it  was  raining.  Dismal 
little  rivers  trickled  along  the  eaves  of  the  houses  and  Dimmie, 
kneeling  in  an  arm  chair  by  the  dining  room  window,  flattened 
his  nose  against  the  glass  and  regarded  disconsolately  the  damp 
length  of  the  rope  swing  that  trailed  from  the  elm  tree.  It 
swayed  gently  in  the  wind  and  its  motion  suggested  many 
tantalizing  possibilities  to  the  small  prisoner. 

"Don't  mash  your  nose  like  that  I  You'll  get  it  all  out  of 
shape,"  Nannie  called  to  him.  She  had  been  eating  her  break- 
fast in  mournful  solitude.  It  was  late  and  John  had  long  ago 
gone  to  catch  his  train  and  Lucy  was  busy  in  the  kitchen. 

"Are  you  still  angry  with  me,  Lucy?"  Mrs.  Merwent  ques- 
tioned when  Lucy  came  into  the  room  for  a  moment. 

"No,"  said  Lucy  in  a  matter-of-fact  voice.  "I'm  going  shop- 
ping this  afternoon  if  it  clears  off.  Don't  you  want  to  go? 
Mrs.  Hamilton  is  going  to  look  after  Dimmie." 

"I  suppose  you  despise  me  too  much  to  be  angry,"  persisted 
Nannie. 

"Let's  think  of  something  else,  Mamma." 

"How  can  I  think  of  anything  else  when  the  only  person 
I  have  in  the  world  feels  hard  towards  me  ?" 

"But  I  don't  feel  hard  toward  you,  Mamma." 

"No !  You  can  take  a  lofty  attitude,  Lucy.  I  was  the  one 
who  was  put  in  a  humiliating  position." 

"I  didn't  suppose  you  were  saying  nasty  and  untrue  things 
behind  my  back,  Mamma,  or  I  wouldn't  have  come  into  the 
dining  room." 

"You  are  so  unjust,  Lucy !"  Nannie  was  in  tears  now.  "You 
overhear  a  playful  and  joking  word  or  two  and  immediately 
jump  to  the  conclusion  that  I  was  backbiting  you.  Anybody 
can  take  a  single  phrase  without  the  context  and  twist  it  into 
something  mean." 


132  BLIND    MICE 

"I  heard  plenty,  Mamma,  to  know  just  the  sort  of  situation 
you  were  trying  to  create.  But  nothing  is  gained  by  talking 
about  what's  past,  so  let's  try  and  forget  it." 

"Oh,  Lucy,  I  don't  see  how  you  can  be  so  cruel!  There  is 
absolutely  no  generous  spirit  in  you.  I  have  overlooked  every- 
thing and  never  refer  to  it." 

"I  didn't  refer  to  this,  Mamma." 

Nannie  sobbed  violently. 

"I  see  that  you  will  never,  never  forgive  me,  Lucy." 

"I  have  forgiven  you,  Mamma." 

"Well,  you  wouldn't  say  so.  You  would  rather  let  me  suffer." 

"No,  Mamma.  I  don't  want  you  to  suffer.  It  is  I  who 
have  suffered  about  this  matter." 

"That  sounds  a  lot  like  you  had  forgiven  me." 

"Well,  I  have,"  repeated  Lucy  in  a  gentler  tone. 

Mrs.  Merwent  went  to  her  daughter  and  put  her  arms 
around  Lucy's  neck. 

"Kiss  me,  Lucy,"  she  implored.  "I  can't  bear  to  have  you 
not  love  me  and  respect  me.  I  hate  to  be  forgiven  by  my  own 
child!" 

Lucy  softened  suddenly  and  returned  Nannie's  kiss,  but 
without  speaking. 

The  sky  cleared  later  in  the  day,  and  when  Dimmie  was 
dispatched  to  Mrs.  Hamilton's  house  with  a  note  Lucy  and 
Nannie  took  the  train  to  the  city. 

Mrs.  Merwent  wore  a  black  tailored  suit  and  a  black  and 
white  hat.  Her  heavily  figured  veil  was  very  becoming. 

As  they  were  leaving  the  station  Miss  Storms  in  her  car 
called  out:  "Lucy!  Are  you  going  to  give  me  the  dead  cut, 
dear  child  ?  How  are  you  ?"  and  she  descended  from  the  auto- 
mobile. 

"You're  looking  fagged,  dear,"  she  observed  as  she  kissed 
Lucy.  Then  her  eye  caught  Nannie's. 

"This  is  my  mother,  Mrs.  Merwent,  Miss  Storms,"  Lucy  ex- 
plained. 

Nannie  bowed  stiffly,  ignoring  Miss  Storms'  smile  and  half 
fextended  hand.  Lucy  showed  that  she  was  disturbed.  Miss 


BLIND    MICE  133 

Storms  stood  very  straight,  drew  herself  up  to  her  tallest,  and 
kept  one  hand  on  the  open  door  of  her  limousine. 

"How  are  John  and  dear  little  Dimmie?"  she  inquired. 
"And  Jim  Sprague  too  ?  I  haven't  seen  him  for  a  month." 

"Oh,  we're  all  well,  thank  you,"  replied  Lucy.  "I  would 
have  been  in  to  see  you  but  I've  been  very  busy  since  Mamma 
came." 

"I  can  imagine  so."  Miss  Storms  smiled  impersonally.  "I'm 
sure  you  are  enjoying  your  mother's  visit."  Then,  "including 
Nannie,  "How  do  you  like  Chicago,  Mrs.  Merwent  ?" 

"Very  much  indeed,"  stated  Nannie  with  great  dignity. 

"By  the  way,  Lucy,  I've  been  wanting  to  see  you,  but  I'll 
call  you  up  on  the  'phone  in  a  day  or  two."  Miss  Storms  then 
spoke  in  a  general  tone.  "Can  I  take  you  two  anywhere  ?" 

"No,  thank  you,"  answered  Lucy. 

"Well,  good-bye,  dear.  Don't  work  too  hard,"  and  she 
pinched  Lucy's  cheek.  Again  in  the  impersonal  tone  she  had 
used  a  moment  before,  "Good-bye,  Mrs.  Merwent,"  and  Miss 
Storms  returned  to  her  seat  in  the  car  and  snapped  the  door 
to,  scarcely  waiting  to  hear  Nannie's  response. 

As  the  machine  whirred  away  Miss  Storms  waved  her  hand 
to  Lucy,  who  waved  back  with  a  smiie. 

"Shall  we  walk,  Mamma,  or  had  you  rather  take  a  street 
car?"  asked  Lucy. 

"Lucy,"  said  Nannie,  her  voice  trembling,  "I  shouldn't  think 
you'd  have  the  face  to  introduce  that  woman  to  me !" 

"What  could  I  do,  Mamma  ?"  retorted  Lucy. 

"You  could  have  ignored  her.  I  should  think  that  your 
mother  would  come  before  a  mere  acquaintance." 

"But,  Mamma,  she's  not  a  mere  acquaintance." 

"Well,  I  should  think  a  woman  who  was  your  mother's 
enemy  would  hardly  be  the  one  to  make  an  intimate  of." 

"She's  been  very  good  to  me,  Mamma." 

"Of  course  that  excuses  all  she  has  done  to  me,  Lucy.  All 
you  know  is  that  she  hates  me  and  that  is  sufficient  to  make 
you  idolize  her." 

"But,  Mamma,  I  know  lots  about  her.  She  is  one  of  Papa's 
friends  and " 

"Yes !    That's  it !  Anybody  he  picks  up  on  the  street  is  good 


134  BLIND    MICE 

enough  for  you.  Don't  think  of  me  or  my  feelings,  I  beg  of 
you,  Lucy.  Anybody,  no  matter  what  her  reputation " 

"Mamma,  Miss  Storms  is  one  of  the  most  distinguished 
women  in  the  United  States.  Here  in  Chicago  her  influence 
is  greater  than  almost  any  man's  in  public  life.  The  whole  city 
is  proud  of  her." 

"How  do  you  know  all  this?" 

"Why  you  only  have  to  read  the  newspapers.  Everybody 
knows  it." 

"Is  she  rich,  Lucy?" 

"I  don't  know,  I'm  sure.  I  think  she  must  be,  she  gives  so 
much  away." 

"Was  that  her  machine?" 

"Why,  yes.  She  has  an  electric  too,  and  her  flat  is  the  most 
beautiful  thing  you  ever  saw." 

"She  certainly  dresses  elegantly,"  admitted  Nannie,  "doesn't 
she!" 

"Yes,"  agreed  Lucy. 

"Does  she  entertain  much?" 

"No,  Mamma.    She's  too  busy." 

"I  suppose  she  doesn't  go  into  society,  then?"  pursued 
Nannie  interrogatively. 

"Why,  yes  indeed,  Mamma.  Her  name  is  always  among 
those  who  were  at  the  biggest  functions.  The  McCullochs, 
the  Porters,  the  Flemwells,  and  all  the  other  social  leaders  try 
to  get  her.  I've  seen  the  invitations.  'Mrs.  Porter  used  to 
come  to  the  flat  to  persuade  her  to  give  up  a  board  meeting 
or  some  committee,  to  help  receive  at  her  things." 

"She  has  a  very  aristocratic  manner,"  acknowledged  Nannie. 
"Shall  we  take  a  car?" 

"All  right,"  agreed  Lucy.  In  a  few  minutes  the  two  were 
in  the  big  department  store. 

"Let's  go  to  a  matinee,"  suggested  Nannie  when  they  had 
made  their  purchases.  "We'll  be  just  in  time  if  we  hurry 
through  our  lunch." 

"Let's  see  if  we've  money  enough  for  the  tickets,"  considered 
Lucy,  searching  through  her  purse.  "All  right,"  she  decided. 
"What  play  do  you  want  to  see?" 

"Why  it  makes  no  difference  to  me,  Lucy.    You  choose." 


BLIND    MICE  135 

"Nazimova  is  playing  Hedda  Gabler  at  the  Standard.  This 
is  the  end  of  the  season  and  just  about  our  last  chance,"  said 
Lucy.  "I've  been  wanting  to  see  the  play  ever  since  I  read  it 
at  Miss  Storms'.  Shall  we  go  there?" 

"Aren't  there  any  musical  comedies  playing  now?"  inquired 
Nannie.  "They  have  such  beautiful  costumes  in  them." 

"We  can  see  as  we  are  eating,"  planned  Lucy,  leading  the 
way  into  a  small  restaurant  and  tea  room.  "We'll  look  at  a 
paper." 

"What  a  cheap  looking  place!"  commented  Mrs.  Merwent, 
staring  around  as  they  sat  down. 

"If  we  go  to  a  dear  one  we'll  have  to  give  up  the  matinee," 
retorted  Lucy  rather  wearily. 

"Oh,  I  didn't  mean  that  I  mind,"  returned  Nannie  quickly. 
"You  always  try  to  twist  everything  I  say  into  something 
mean,  Lucy,"  she  added  petulantly. 

"Mamma,  please  let's  not  quarrel  again,"  pleaded  Lucy. 
"I'm  so  tired." 

"I'm  sure  Fve  not  been  trying  to  quarrel.  I've  been  as  nice 
as  I  knew  how  to  be  all  day.  You're  the  one  who  always  seems 
to  want  to  quarrel." 

The  waitress  came  up  with  a  menu. 

Lucy  scrutinized  her  mother  in  silence.  Then,  turning  to 
the  waitress  who  had  come  back  to  the  table,  she  gave  an  order 
and  asked  for  a  morning  paper. 

Nannie  preserved  an  injured  silence  until  the  food  was 
placed  before  her,  but  she  could  not  resist  its  expansive  effect. 

Lucy  picked  up  the  paper  and  scanned  it. 

"There  are  no  musical  comedies  playing  near  here,  Mamma," 
she  announced.  "The  only  other  theatre  near  enough  is  giving 
a  revival  of  As  You  Like  It.  The  rest  are  too  far  away  for 
us  to  get  there  before  the  curtain  goes  up." 

"Well,  let's  see  Nazimova  then,"  conceded  Mrs.  Merwent. 
"These  sandwiches  are  so  good  I  could  eat  a  dozen !" 

Lucy  had  ended  her  meal. 

"We'll  be  late  if  you  do!"  she  said  warningly.  "It's  half 
past  one." 

"Wait  a  minute,  Lucy.  You  hurry  me  so  I  hardly  know 
what  I'm  eating,"  Nannie  protested. 


136  BLIND    MICE 

Only  the  highest  priced  seats  were  left  when  they  reached 
the  theatre,  and,  by  the  time  they  were  in  their  places,  the 
curtain  had  risen  and  the  first  act  was  in  progress. 

''If  I'd  known  we  were  going  to  be  late  I  wouldn't  have 
come/'  grumbled  Nannie.  "I  hate  to  come  in  after*  a  piece  is 
started.  It's  so  hard  to  get  the  threads  of  the  plot." 

During  the  progress  of  the  play  Mrs.  Merwent  insisted  on 
whispering  personal  remarks  regarding  the  actors  and  ac- 
tresses, until  Lucy  could  no  longer  endure  it  with  equanimity. 

"Please,  Mamma,  do  wait  till  after  the  act  is  over!"  she 
requested  irritably. 

"I  never  saw  any  one  in  my  life  who  was  so  hard  to  get 
along  with  as  you,"  murmured  Nannie  in  a  savage  undertone. 
After  this  she  preserved  an  injured  silence,  not  speaking 
again  until  they  had  reached  home. 

Here  Lucy  changed  into  her  house  dress  and  apron  and 
began  dinner,  and  Nannie  went  to  her  room. 

At  the  end  of  an  hour  Mrs.  Merwent  appeared  in  a  pretty 
light  green  demi-toilette.  On  Dimmie's  return  from  the  Ham- 
iltons'  Lucy  had  changed  his  clothes  and  he  too  was  spotless. 

As  John's  step  was  heard,  Nannie  ran  to  the  door.  Dimmie 
followed  rather  timidly.  When  John  entered  the  dining  room 
it  was  with  one  hand  on  Nannie's  arm,  while  Dimmie  clung 
to  his  other  hand. 

"How's  everybody?"  John  asked.  "You  look  like  a  de- 
butante, Nannie." 

"Everybody's  well,"  she  replied.    "We've  been  to  a  matinee." 

"I  didn't  go,"  volunteered  Dimmie.  "I  stayed  with  Mrs. 
Hamilton." 

At  this  juncture  Lucy  came  in  with  a  dish  from  the 
kitchen. 

"You  look  like  you'd  been  to  a  funeral,"  said  John,  regard- 
ing her.  "What's  the  matter?" 

"I  have  a  slight  headache,  but  it's  nothing.  Let's  have 
dinner." 

When  they  were  seated  at  the  table  she  began  to  talk  with 
determined  agreeableness. 

"We  went  to  see  Nazimova  as  Hedda  Gabler.  She's  won- 
derful." 


BLIND   MICE  137 

"And  that  dress  she  wore  in  the  last  act !"  interrupted  Nan- 
nie. "Did  you  get  a  good  look  at  it,  Lucy?  It  was  black  silk 
with  tiny  pink  rosebuds." 

"But  didn't  you  think  her  portrayal  of  Hedda  was  splen- 
did?" persisted  Lucy. 

"I  didn't  like  the  piece,"  returned  Mrs.  Merwent.  "I  don't 
enjoy  sad  things." 

*•    "She  certainly  has  a  marvellous  temperament.     Don't  you 
think  so,  John?"  pursued  Lucy. 

"Yes.    I  admired  her  as  Nora  very  much." 

"She's  a  brunette/'  observed  Nannie.  "Now  what  are  you 
laughing  at,  Lucy?  You  ridicule  everything  I  say!  I'm  sure 
I  don't  see  anything  funny  in  what  I  said.  And  John  is  laugh- 
ing too !" 

"We  weren't  ridiculing  you,  Mamma,"  said  Lucy. 

"No !  I  think  it  was  cute !"  supplemented  John  warmly.  "I 
like  naivete.  People  are  generally  so  sophisticated." 

"Well,  you  like  me  a  little,  anyway.    Don't  you,  John?" 

"I  should  say  I  did,  Nannie !" 

"So  do  I,"  added  Lucy. 

"Thank  you,  John,"  said  Nannie,  smiling  again. 

The  next  evening  Nannie  and  John  walked  about  the  front 
yard  waiting  for  Lucy  to  announce  dinner.  It  was  just  after 
sunset  and  the  tints  in  the  sky  were  gorgeous. 

"Oh  look  at  the  lovely  delicate  mauve  tint  under  that 
cloud!"  exclaimed  John,  pointing.  Lucy  joined  them  as  he 
was  speaking. 

"Yes,"  agreed  Nannie.  "It's  just  the  color  of  a  dress  I  once 
had.  Do  you  remember  that  little  dress,  Lucy?" 

"Yes,  Mamma."  Lucy's  voice  was  weary.  "Come  on,  or 
dinner  will  get  cold,"  she  added. 

"Speaking  of  colors,  what  did  you  ever  paint  your  house 
that  horrid  shade  for?"  Nannie  asked  a  moment  later,  when 
the  family  was  seated  and  she  was  serving  the  plates. 

"Why  I  don't  thing  it's  horrid,"  objected  Lucy.  "We  all 
agreed  it  was  pretty.  Jim  selected  it  and " 

"Yes!"  sneered  Mrs.  Merwent,  "Mr.  Sprague  has  to  be 
pleased  even  in  the  color  of  your  house!" 


138  BLIND   MICE 

Lucy  was  pale  and  silent. 

"I've  thought  myself  since  that  a  slate  grey  would  have  been 
more  effective,"  said  John. 

"Why,  John,  you  were  the  most  enthusiastic  of  all  over  this 
fawn  and  brown  color  scheme !"  defended  Lucy. 

"Well?  Is  that  any  reason  why  I  shouldn't  change  my 
mind?"  demanded  John  sharply. 

"It  certainly  is!"  retorted  Lucy  with  equal  emphasis. 
"People  ought  to  know  their  own  minds." 

"Like  you !"  snapped  John. 

"Dear  me,"  cooed  Nannie,  "you  two  have  your  little  tiffs 
like  other  people !  I  had  always  thought  you  so  happy/' 

Lucy  burst  into  tears  and  left  the  table. 

After  finishing  his  meal,  John  went  to  the  door  of  Lucy's 
room  and  found  it  locked.  He  knocked. 

"Please  go  away,  John,"  called  Lucy. 

"But,  Lucy,  you  shouldn't  get  angry  at  every  suggestion 
Nannie  makes." 

"I  can't  talk,  John.     I'm  so  tired." 

John  returned  to  Nannie. 

"Let's  us  two  wash  the  dishes,"  he  proposed.  Dimmie  had 
gone  to  sleep  in  the  Morris  chair. 

"Well,  wait  a  minute,  John.  There  was  so  much  of  this 
dessert  left  I  thought  I'd  take  another  helping,"  Nannie  ex- 
plained, beginning  to  eat  again. 

By  the  time  they  had  cleaned  the  dishes  and  undressed  Dim- 
mie Nannie  had  reiterated  a  favorite  opinion. 

"John,  you  must  get  a  servant  for  Lucy.  I  help  her  all 
I  can  but  the  work  is  too  heavy  for  her." 

Lucy  objected  strenuously  to  the  scheme  when  it  was 
brought  up  by  John  the  following  morning.  She  was  proud 
of  her  plan  of  putting  the  amount  of  a  servant's  wages  in  the 
bank  every  month. 

"Well,  Lucy,  it's  only  for  your  own  good  that  I  suggested 
it,"  argued  Nannie. 

"I  can  do  the  work  all  right,"  Lucy  protested.  "I've  not 
been  very  well  lately,  but  I'll  be  all  right." 

"I  agree  with  Nannie,"  decided  John.  "It  will  be  a  good 
thing  for  her,  too,  for  then  you  can  go  out  with  her  more. 


BLIND    MICE  139 

She's  had  to  stay  in  most  of  the  time  because  there  was  no  one 
to  go  with." 

"I'm  not  thinking  of  myself  at  all,  John,"  put  in  Nannie. 

"I  know  you're  not,"  returned  John,  "but  we  are." 

"But,  John,"  demurred  Lucy,  "we  can't  afford  it.  Our  bills 
are  getting  bigger  every  week." 

"Well,  a  few  dollars  a  month  for  servant  hire  isn't  going 
to  make  any  appreciable  difference." 

"It  isn't  only  the  wages,  John,  but  a  servant  eats,  and 
wastes,  and  steals,  and  there  are  a  lot  of  things  to  be  thought 
of  !"  Lucy  began  to  weep. 

"There !  That's  an  example.  You're  all  nervous  and  worn 
out  and  ready  to  blow  up  at  any  time,"  said  John. 

"Yes!  And  her  friends  blame  it  on  me!"  Nannie  inter- 
rupted. "Mr.  Sprague  and  that  Miss  Storms  both  told  me 
that  Lucy  was  working  too  hard." 

"I'd  be  obliged  if  both  of  them  would  attend  to  their  own 
business,"  remarked  John  testily.  "Well,  it's  settled,  and 
I'll  send  a  girl  out  at  once." 

"Please  don't,  John,"  begged  Lucy  as  she  followed  him  into 
the  hall  a  moment  later.  He  took  his  hat  from  the  rack. 

"Yes,  I  will,"  he  repeated,  laughing.  "Good-bye,"  and  he 
was  gone. 

John,  to  Lucy's  relief,  neglected  to  put  into  immediate  ex- 
ecution his  threat  of  hiring  a  servant.  She  tried  to  conceal 
from  him  the  extent  of  her  fear  and  perplexity  as  he  seemed 
to  regard  her  concern  for  their  affairs  as  a  justification  of 
his  intention,  and  to  evade  Nannie's  persistence  was  even 
more  difficult. 


XVII 

Late  in  the  afternoon  of  the  first  day  of  the  month,  Mrs. 
Merwent  found  her  daughter  bending  over  some  papers  on 
the  writing  table  in  the  living  room. 

"What  are  you  looking  so  cross  about?"  Nannie  asked  as 
she  entered  the  room. 

"I  didn't  know  I  was  looking  cross,"  said  Lucy.  "I  was 
worried." 

"Well,  you  were,  and  you  oughtn't  to  do  it.  The  lines  on 
your  forehead  are  already  deeper  than  they  are  on  mine. 
What  in  the  world  have  you  got  to  worry  over?--  If  your  life 
had  been  like  mine  you  might  have  a  right  to  worry !  With  a 
husband  like  John  you  ought  to  be  as  happy  as  a  bird." 

Lucy  did  not  reply. 

"What  is  it  especially  that's  worrying  you?"  Nannie  asked 
again. 

"I'm  worried  about  finances,"  answered  Lucy.  "Our  gro- 
cery bills  have  already  doubled  and  extra  expenses  have  more 
than  trebled." 

"Well,  I  certainly  hope  that  my  coming  hasn't  had  anything 
to  do  with  it,  Lucy." 

Lucy  glanced  up  hesitatingly.  "Well,  to  be  frank,  Mamma, 
we  have  a  good  many  people  here  at  odd  times  since  you 
came,"  she  said  with  sudden  resolution,  "and  I  do  wish  you 
wouldn't  always  be  encouraging  John  to  spend  money." 

"I  encourage  John  to  spend  money !"  exclaimed  Nannie.  "I 
must  say  that's  a  considerate  way  to  talk  to  a  guest,  especially 
when  it's  your  own  mother,  and  isolated  as  I  am !  You're  very 
kind  and  thoughtful.  Very,  Lucy !" 

"Listen,  Mamma,"  Lucy  began  patiently. 

"I  should  think  ordinary  tact  would  keep  you  from  saying 
such  things  as  that,  Lucy,  even  if  I  were  as  callous  as  you 

140 


BLIND    MICE  141 

seem  to  think,  but  when  I've  tried  so  hard  to  help  you " 

Nannie  was  close  to  tears. 

Lucy  sighed. 

"Such  a  speech  is  complimentary  to  your  husband,  too," 
persisted  Nannie. 

"Now,  see  here,  Mamma,"  said  Lucy,  stung  by  the  last  re- 
mark, "I  didn't  mean  anything  you  seem  to  imply,  and  if  you 
can't  understand,  we  won't  talk  any  more  about  it." 

"Oh,  very  well,  Lucy!  Of  course  I'm  to  blame  as  usual. 
/  started  it.  This  is  the  gratitude  I  get  for  overlooking  the 
past  and  coming  here.  Poor  Mamma,  until  the  day  of  her 
death,  never  could  get  over  the  way  you  treated  her,  and  why 
should  I  expect  anything  different?  Well,  it's  just  as  you 
like !"  Nannie  rose  and  swept  into  the  hall. 

Before  she  could  ascend  the  stairs,  John's  step  was  heard 
on  the  porch  and  the  front  door  was  unlocked. 

"Hello,  Nannie!"  he  almost  shouted.  "Get  your  best  bib 
and  tucker  on.  We're  going  to  see  the  Madcap  Girl!  It's 
a  dandy  clear  evening.  You  said  you  wanted  to  see  it  and 
I've  got  tickets.  Where's  Lucy?  Let's  have  dinner  at  once," 
and  he  passed  on  into  the  dining  room  where  Nannie  followed 
him. 

Lucy,  who  had  gone  into  the  kitchen,  reappeared. 

"Hurry  up  dinner,  Lucy."  John's  manner  was  impatient. 
"We're  going  to  the  theatre." 

She  stopped,  with  a  dish  in  her  hand,  and  considered  an 
instant. 

"What  about  Dimmie?"  she  asked.    John  frowned  irritably. 

"Hang  Dimmie !"  he  ejaculated,  petulantly.  "I  should  think 
if  Mrs.  Hamilton  is  such  a  friend  as  you  say  she  might  take 
care  of  him  one  night!"  Again  Lucy  was  silent  a  moment. 

"All  right,"  she  acquiesced  finally. 

"You  don't  seem  very  jubilant  about  it,"  commented  Nannie, 
who  was  now  all  smiles.  "I  appreciate  it,"  she  added. 

When  they  were  seated  at  the  table  John  produced  the 
tickets. 

"Oh!  A  box!"  cried  Nannie,  examining  them  gleefully. 
"How  nice!  I've  wanted  to  see  the  Madcap  Girl  for  so 
long!" 


142  BLIND    MICE 

"It's  certainly  a  great  play,  by  all  accounts,"  observed  Lucy 
acidly. 

"Why,  everybody  says  the  costumes  are  lovely,  and  there 
are  some  of  the  newest  dances  introduced,"  contended  Nannie. 
"I've  been  crazy  to  see  it." 

"We  can't  afford  a  box,  and  besides  I've  no  clothes  suit- 
able for  a  box."  Lucy's  voice  grew  sharper  with  each  word. 
"If  you  would  throw  away  money,  John,  why  didn't  you  pick 
out  something  worth  seeing?  I'd  rather  have  seen  Ethel  Bar- 
rymore  in  Midchannel,  even  if  I  sat  in  the  gallery,  than  this 
nasty,  silly  thing  in  the  best  box  in  the  house !" 

"Why,  you  can  see  Midchannel  too,"  interrupted  John, 
somewhat  crestfallen. 

"No,  I  can't.  We've  spent  twice  as  much  on  theatres  already 
this  month  as  we  ought  to  in  half  a  year !" 

"Well,  Lucy,  Nannie  especially  wanted  to  see  this  play,  and 
I  think  we  ought  sometimes  to  sacrifice  our  own  tastes  for 
her." 

"I'm  sure  I  didn't  know  John  was  going  to  get  tickets  when 
I  innocently  said  I  had  wanted  to  see  the  play,"  said  Nannie. 
"I  don't  see  that  I  am  to  blame  for  it." 

"No  one's  to  blame,  Nannie,"  championed  John.  Then,  turn- 
ing to  Lucy,  "I  don't  know  what's  gotten  into  you  lately,  Lucy. 
If  you  don't  want  to  go,  say  so." 

"Yes,  indeed,"  chimed  in  Nannie.  "I  don't  need  to  go. 
It's  not  a  matter  of  life  and  death.  In  fact  I  have  had  a  little 
headache  anyway,  although  /  wouldn't  think  of  spoiling  the 
evening  after  poor,  dear  John  has  been  so  thoughtful." 

"Well,  what  are  you  going  to  do?"  demanded  John  in  the 
captious  tone  he  had  come  to  use  more  and  more  often  of 
late. 

Lucy  glanced  at  her  mother  before  speaking. 

"I'll  go,"  she  decided,  rising  from  the  table,  "that  is  if  Mrs. 
Hamilton  is  going  to  be  at  home." 

As  Nannie  rose  also  a  glance  of  sympathetic  understanding 
passed  between  her  and  John. 

The  two  women  ascended  the  stairs. 

Lucy  prepared  Dimmie  for  the  night,  and,  before  changing 
her  clothes  for  the  street,  went  out  the  back  way  and  through 


BLIND    MICE  143 

an  alley  gate  into  the  Hamiltons'  yard.  Dr.  Hamilton  called 
to  her  from  the  porch  and  she  made  her  request.  She  re- 
turned home  without  telling  John  the  result  of  her  mission  but 
when  she  dressed  herself  and  descended  to  the  living  room 
she  found  him  waiting.  She  wore  a  blue  foulard  dress  and  a 
black  hat  and  as  she  came  in  she  was  drawing  on  her  gloves. 

"Mrs.  Hamilton  will  be  over  here  in  a  moment,"  she  in- 
formed him  coldly  in  answer  to  his  glance  of  inquiry.  The 
two  sat  in  silence  as  they  waited  for  Mrs.  Merwent  to  descend 
and  the  neighbor  to  arrive. 

"I'm  afraid  we'll  be  late,"  remarked  John  regretfully,  after 
a  restless  pause.  "When  did  Mrs.  Hamilton  say  she  could 
come  ?  Hadn't  you  better  call  Nannie  ?" 

"Mother  knows  perfectly  well  what  time  it  is,"  responded 
Lucy,  and  added,  "Mrs.  Hamilton  had  just  come  in  from  a 
long  day  in  town  and  had  to  change  her  dress." 

"You're  not  very  considerate  of  Nannie,  Lucy." 

"Well,  you  make  up  for  it!"  Lucy's  manner  as  she  said 
this  was  a  surprise  to  John. 

"Lucy,  I  don't  understand  you  at  all." 

"Be  careful  not  to  try  too  hard,  John." 

"Oh,  well,  if  you  want  to  be  sarcastic,  all  right!"  Silence 
descended  again. 

Mrs.  Hamilton  entered  the  house  through  the  kitchen  where 
Lucy  had  left  a  door  ajar  for  her.  She  looked  tired  but  apolo- 
gized good  humoredly  for  her  delay.  John  greeted  her  stiffly. 

"The  doctor  may  be  called  out,"  she  explained,  "in  which 
case  he'll  carry  Dimmie  over  to  our  place."  Lucy  bit  her  lips. 

"I  appreciate  so  much  your  doing  this,"  she  said  earnestly. 

"My  goodness !  What  are  friends  for !"  Mrs.  Hamilton 
laughed,  trying  to  draw  John  into  the  conversation. 

After  a  quarter  of  an  hour  had  elapsed  Lucy  walked  into 
the  hall  and  called,  "We're  waiting,  Mamma." 

"Wait  a  minute,  Lucy.  You  hurry  me  so  I  can't  half  dress," 
Nannie  shouted  back. 

When  she  finally  appeared  she  wore  a  grey  and  green  eve- 
ning gown,  a  grey  opera  cloak,  and  grey  satin  slippers. 

She  greeted  plainly  garbed  Mrs.  Hamilton  with  unusual 
geniality. 


144  BLIND   MICE 

"We  really  ought  to  have  a  machine  to  go  in!"  John  ex- 
claimed when  he  saw  Nannie. 

"Oh,  no,"  said  Nannie  cheerfully.  "We'll  get  through  all 
right — although  it's  dear  of  you  to  think  of  such  things, 
John." 

When  they  were  seated  in  the  train  John  said,  "Jim  is 
going,  too.  He  thought  he  couldn't  leave  his  work  but  I  per- 
suaded him." 

"Did  you  tell  him  we  were  all  coming?"  queried  Nannie. 

"Oh,  yes,"  John  answered. 

Jim,  in  evening  clothes,  met  them  at  the  station. 

"You  go  ahead  with  Lucy,"  he  suggested  to  John,  after 
greetings  were  exchanged.  "You've  got  the  tickets." 

"No.  You  go  with  Lucy,"  said  John,  "and  I'll  come  on  with 
Nannie." 

By  the  time  they  reached  the  theatre  and  entered  their  box 
the  overture  was  ending.  The  curtain  rose  as  they  seated 
themselves. 

"Now,  didn't  you  like  it  ?"  Nannie  asked  Lucy  as  the  curtain 
fell  on  the  final  tableau  of  the  first  act. 

"I  certainly  didn't  like  that  song,"  returned  Lucy. 

"What  song  ?    The  one  about  the  butterfly  ?" 

"No.  The  other  one,  'What  Would  Robinson  Crusoe  Have 
Done?'." 

"Why,  I  thought  it  was  cute." 

"It  was  vulgar." 

"Why,  I  didn't  think  of  it's  being  vulgar  till  you  spoke  of 
it  just  now."  Nannie  smiled  at  John. 

"It  sure  was,"  said  Jim,  rising.  "May  I  go  and  smoke?" 
he  asked  Lucy. 

"Yes,"  she  replied. 

"And  I,  too,"  said  John. 

"You  sure  can,  John,"  smiled  Nannie. 

"Didn't  you  think  the  dresses  in  that  yachting  scene  were 
just  grand?"  she  continued  when  the  men  had  left  her  and 
Lucy  alone. 

"Yes,"  agreed  Lucy  absently. 

Nannie  began  to  study  the  audience  through  her  opera 
glass. 


BLIND   MICE  145 

"Why,  there's  Miss  Powell!"  she  ejaculated  in  a  pleased 
tone.  "She's  bowing  to  us.  Don't  you  see  her,  Lucy?" 

"No,"  answered  Lucy,  barely  glancing  in  the  direction  her 
mother  indicated. 

Nothing  more  was  said  until  John  and  Jim  appeared. 

"Now  let's  go  and  have  a  little  supper,"  John  proposed  when 
the  performance  was  at  an  end. 

"That  will  be  delightful !"  cried  Nannie,  clapping  her  hands. 

Lucy  looked  at  John. 

"We'll  get  home  so  late,"  she  objected,  "and  Mrs.  Hamilton 
can't  leave  until  we  get  back." 

"Darn  Mrs.  Hamilton!"  he  declared.  "She's  probably  car- 
ried Dimmie  over  to  her  house  and  there's  plenty  of  time 
before  the  last  train." 

"I  don't  want  any  supper,"  persisted  Lucy. 

"Oh,  come  on,  Lucy!"  said  John  with  his  newly  acquired 
•querulousness.  "What  do  you  want  to  spoil  everything  for?" 

"But  I'd  rather  not,"  Lucy  insisted. 

"Why?" 

"Well,  I  have  a  headache,  for  one  thing.". 

"All  right,"  acquiesced  Nannie,  in  the  tone  of  a  patient 
;martyr.  "Let's  go  home  then." 

"It's  a  shame!"  John  asserted.  "Your  evening  will  be 
spoiled,  Nannie." 

"Oh,  my  pleasure  don't  matter,  John.  If  Lucy  would  rather 
not  it's  all  right." 

"I'll  take  Lucy  home  and  you  two  can  stay,"  interrupted 
Jim  in  a  rather  aggressive  tone. 

"Oh,  no,"  refused  Mrs.  Merwent.  "You  needn't  do  that. 
We'll  go." 

"I'm  not  very  strong  for  eating  at  this  hour  myself,"  Jim 
continued,  "and  I  don't  mind  seeing  Lucy  home  a  bit." 

"Well,  all  right,  Jim — if  you  don't  mind,"  agreed  John,  help- 
ing Nannie  with  her  opera  cloak. 

In  the  foyer  they  met  Miss  Powell,  in  an  elegant  black 
decollete  gown,  and  an  opera  cloak  of  old  rose. 

"Why,  how  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Merwent!"  She  came  tip  to 
Nannie  and  shook  hands.  "I'm  so  glad  to  see  you."  Then, 
turning  to  John  and  Lucy,  "Mr.  Winter,  Mrs.  Winter." 


146  BLIND    MICE 

"You  know  Mr.  Sprague,  Miss  Powell,"  said  Lucy. 

"Why,  yes.  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Sprague?"  She  turned 
to  Nannie  again. 

"How  are  you  enjoying  your  stay  in  Chicago  by  this  time, 
Mrs.  Merwent?" 

"Oh,  very  much,  thank  you,"  replied  Nannie. 

"You  are  looking  so  well,"  Miss  Powell  pursued.  "I  de- 
clare I'm  jealous.  No  one  would  ever  dream  of  taking  you 
for  Mrs.  Winter's  mother." 

"Thank  you,"  cooed  Nannie  once  more. 

"Won't  you  have  some  supper  with  us?"  John  invited. 
"We'll  see  you  safely  home  afterwards." 

"Oh,  no,  thank  you  very  much.  My  brother  is  waiting  for 
me.  I  must  run!"  And  with  a  smile  and  handshake,  Miss 
Powell  was  gone. 

"Come  on,  Lucy,"  urged  Jim,  taking  her  arm.  The  two  left 
the  theatre,  John  and  Nannie  going  in  the  opposite  direction, 
toward  a  fashionable  restaurant. 

Jim  and  Lucy  were  both  very  quiet  in  the  car  that  took  them 
toward  Rosedene.  It  was  moonlight  outside.  Jim  scrutinized 
Lucy's  profile  a  long  while  as  she  stared  through  the  window, 
but  he  said  nothing.  When  they  had  alighted  at  their  station 
and  walked  to  the  house,  even  after  the  door  was  unlocked, 
Jim  delayed  a  little  on  the  porch,  as  if  hoping  that  Lucy  would 
invite  him  in.  But  she  did  not. 

It  was  very  still  down  the  street.  Rosedene  seemed  to  be 
asleep.  On  the  side  of  the  house  toward  the  country  stretched 
the  dim,  misty  vista  of  a  meadow,  with  here  and  there  real 
estate  agents'  sign  boards  looming  like  crucified  ghosts.  The 
air  had  a  tang  of  cold  that  belied  the  promise  of  the  summer 
which,  according  to  the  calendar,  was  already  upon  them. 

"Thank  you  so  much  for  bringing  me  home,"  was  all  Lucy 
said. 

"Thank  you  for  letting  me,"  he  responded.  "You  know  I 
would  thank  you  for  letting  me  do  more,  Lucy." 

"I  know,  Jim."    Her  tone  was  frank  and  friendly. 

"Lucy " 

"What,  Jim?" 


BLIND    MICE        .  147 

"Oh,  well — nothing.    Good-bye,"  and  he  held  out  his  hand. 

Lucy  put  hers  in  it.  His  clasp  was  unwontedly  warm.  As  he 
turned  away  and  she  went  into  the  hall  she  felt  her  fingers  tingle. 

Mrs.  Hamilton  had  remained  upstairs  near  Dimmie  and 
when  Lucy  entered  the  bedroom  was  seated  in  a  rocking  chair 
with  her  eyes  closed  wearily.  She  started  and  looked  up. 

"I'm  so  sorry!"  Lucy  began  feelingly,  but  Mrs.  Hamilton 
interrupted  her.  * 

"Don't  say  anything  about  it,  Mrs.  Winter.  Under  ordinary 
circumstances  I  wouldn't  have  even  been  tired,  and  it  doesn't 
matter  a  bit.  I'll  just  go  over  home  now."  She  rose  and 
smoothed  down  her  dress. 

"Aren't  you  afraid  to  go  alone?  Let  me  go  with  you." 
Lucy  started  after  her  friend  but  Mrs.  Hamilton  was  already 
half  down  the  stairs. 

"Not  a  bit!"  she  called  cheerily  over  her  shoulder,  waving 
Lucy  away.  "Shut  the  door  after  me."  Lucy  descended  to 
the  kitchen  and  bolted  the  door,  then  she  went  back  to  the  bed- 
room and  undressed  but  she  did  not  go  to  sleep. 

It  was  a  long  time  before  John  and  Nannie  arrived.  They 
came  in  a  taxicab,  their  voices  betraying  high  spirits,  and  be- 
fore ascending  the  stairs  they  talked  and  laughed  in  the  dining 
room  for  a  while. 

Finally  Nannie  said  warningly,  "We  might  wake  Lucy, 
John,"  and  the  voices  and  laughter  became  more  subdued. 

At  last  they  tip-toed  upstairs,  where  John  found  Lucy  yet 
awake.  He  called  Nannie.  As  she  came  into  the  bedroom, 
Lucy  reached  for  a  dressing  sacque  and  threw  it  around  her 
shoulders.  Nannie  and  John  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  bed  and 
described  the  supper. 

"You  don't  know  what  you  missed,  Lucy !  We  had  a  lobster 
a  la  Newburg,  and  the  best  wine !  Sparkling  Burgundy,  wasn't 
it,  John?  I  didn't  know  you  could  get  wine  now.  I  never 
ate  so  much  in  my  life.  But  dear  John  has  such  perfect  taste 
in  ordering  refreshments !  We  met  Miss  Powell  again  in  the 
restaurant,"  Nannie  rattled  on,  "and  she  introduced  her 
brother.  That's  how  the  head  waiter  let  us  have  the  wine. 
I'm  going  to  a  theatre  with  them  next  week.  He's  said  to  be 
worth  two  million  dollars." 


148  BLIND    MICE 

"We  missed  the  last  train,"  volunteered  John. 

"We  had  the  best  time,"  declared  Nannie  ecstatically. 

"Is  your  head  better?"  John  inquired  of  Lucy. 

"Yes,  poor,  dear  Lucy !  I  was  so  sorry.  But  I  suppose  you 
had  a  good  time  too,"  Nannie  finished  slyly. 

"What  do  you  mean,  Mamma  ?" 

Nannie  laughed. 

"Why,  you  and  Mr.  Sprague  had  a  fine  chance  for  a  tete-d,- 
tete." 

"Did  Jim  stay  long?"  John  asked  suddenly. 

"No.  He  didn't  come  in  at  all,"  answered  Lucy  with  forced 
naturalness. 

"Well,  I  must  go  to  sleep,  or  I'll  look  a  fright  in  the  morn- 
ing. Good  night,  Lucy." 

"Good  night,  Mamma." 

"Good  night,  Nannie,"  said  John. 

"Good  night,  dear  John,"  returned  Nannie.  "Here,  wait  a 
minute.  I've  got  to  kiss  you  for  giving  me  such  a  lovely 
evening,"  and  she  suited  the  action  to  her  words.  Then,  with 
a  silvery,  "I  hope  you  rest  well,"  she  tripped  out  of  the  bed- 
room and  across  the  hall. 

"You  ought  to  have  stayed,  Lucy,"  remarked  John,  as  he 
was  preparing  for  bed.  "We  had  lots  of  fun." 

Lucy  did  not  speak. 

"I  would  have  come  home  with  you  if  Jim  hadn't  offered," 
he  went  on,  in  the  tone  of  one  combating  an  argument,  "but 
seeing  that  he  didn't  care  for  any  supper  either,  I  thought  there 
was  no  need  for  spoiling  Nannie's  enjoyment.  Those  Hamil- 
tons  are  always  bragging  about  liking  us  and  this  is  the  first 
time  we've  ever  asked  anything  of  them  as  far  as  I  know." 

Lucy  was  still  silent. 

John  completed  his  preparations  for  bed,  whistling  softly 
one  of  the  airs  they  had  heard  at  the  play.  When  ready,  be- 
fore turning  off  the  light,  he  came  around  to  Lucy's  side  of 
the  bed  and  bent  down  to  kiss  her. 

She  buried  her  face  in  the  pillow. 

"Oh,  very  well.  Just  as  you  like,"  he  said,  and  switched 
off  the  light. 


XVIII 

The  morning  after  John's  theatre  party  Nannie  breakfasted 
in  high  spirits  and  when  she  had  done  with  her  meal  she  made 
her  way  into  the  living  room  to  practice  the  accompaniments 
to  the  two  songs  she  had  admired  in  the  Madcap  Girl,  the 
music  of  which  John  had  purchased  in  the  theatre  entrance 
after  the  performance. 

Dimmie  was  amusing  himself  in  the  hall. 

"Don't  make  so  much  noise,  Jimmie,"  she  called  from  the 
piano. 

He  stopped  running  about  and  sat  down  on  a  rug.  In  a  few 
minutes  he  began  drumming  on  the  floor  with  his  heels. 

"Jimmie !  Did  you  hear  me  ?  I  tell  you  to  stop  that  noise !" 
Nannie's  tone  was  one  to  which  Dimmie  was  a  stranger. 

"What  can  I  do?"  asked  the  child. 

"Be  still,  like  a  good  boy,"  his  grandmother  answered. 

"I  am  a  good  boy,"  averred  Dimmie,  secure  in  his  lifelong 
experience  of  the  approval  of  himself  expressed  by  his  parents 
and  "Uncle  Jim." 

"You're  not.    You're  a  very  bad  little  boy,"  declared  Nannie. 

Dimmie's  lip  quivered.  Then  his  eyes  flashed,  and  a  look 
came  into  them  which  recalled  Lucy. 

"I  ain't  a  bad  boy !  You're  a  bad  woman  to  say  I'm  a  bad 
boy!" 

"Well,  it's  true,  or  I  wouldn't  say  it." 

"It  ain't  true,  neither.  You're  a  story  to  say  what  ain't 
true  about  me." 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  I  lie,  Jimmie?  Don't  you  know 
that  it's  very  rude  and  wicked  to  call  anybody  a  liar?" 

"Well,  you  are  a  liar !"  shouted  Dimmie  in  righteous  wrath. 

Lucy,  entering  from  the  kitchen,  heard  the  indictment. 

"Why,  Dimmie!  What  in  the  world  possessed  you  to  say 

149 


150  BLIND    MICE 

such  an  awful  thing?"  demanded  his  mother  in  astonishment. 

Dimmie  began  to  cry. 

"She  said  I  was  a  naughty  boy,"  he  wailed. 

"Well,  you  are,  when  you  talk  like  that,"  affirmed  Lucy. 
"You  can  go  upstairs  to  your  room  and  stay  till  I  tell  you 
you  can  come  out.  I  won't  have  my  little  boy  saying  things 
like  this!" 

A  few  minutes  later  Mrs.  Merwent  peered  into  Dimmie's 
room  and  saw  him  sitting  on  the  floor  in  a  corner,  his  mouth 
trembling  and  his  eyes  red  and  tearful. 

"Come  here,  Jimmie,"  she  tempted. 

"I  won't,"  he  refused  vehemently,  in  all  the  exaltation  of 
bursting  pride  that  takes  no  heed  of  consequences. 

"Come  on,  dear,"  she  pleaded. 

"Go  'way!"  he  ordered  gallantly.    "I  hate  you!" 

Nannie  entered  the  room  and  went  over  to  the  child,  kneel- 
ing down  beside  him.  Dimmie  turned  his  back,  resolutely 
winking  away  the  .additional  tears  that  flowed  at  the  indignity 
of  being  spied  on  in  his  humiliation. 

"Don't  hate  Nannie,"  she  whispered.  "Nannie  loves  you. 
Poor  Nannie!" 

Dimmie,  still  silent,  winked  harder  than  ever. 

"Nannie  didn't  punish  you.    It  was  Mamma,"  she  pursued. 

"You  made  her,"  he  insisted  accusingly. 

"No,  I  didn't,  Jimmie.  If  I  had  known  she  was  going  to 
send  you  up  here  I  wouldn't  have  said  anything."  Nannie's 
voice  was  sweet  and  low. 

"My  name  ain't  Jimmie.  It's  Dimmie,"  he  stipulated,  weak- 
ening. 

"Oh,  yes.  I  forgot,  Dimmie.  See  I've  brought  you  some 
Brandy,"  she  continued,  displaying  the  treasure. 

Dimmie's  face  lighted  and  he  put  out  his  hand. 

"Wait  a  minute,  Jimmie — Dimmie,  I  mean."  Nannie  pushed 
his  hand  away. 

The  tragedy  fell  on  Dimmie's  soul  again. 

"It's  yours,  Jimmie,  but  you  mustn't  try  to  grab  things  like 
that." 

"Can  I  have  all  of  it?"  he  asked  anxiously. 

"Yes.    It's  all  for  you  if  you  will  love  Nannie." 


BLIND    MICE  151 

The  bribe  changed  hands.    Dimmie  was  beaming. 

"Now  kiss  Nannie,"  she  commanded.  "Don't  touch  me  with 
your  sticky  fingers,"  she  warned  as  he  obeyed. 

"Come  on.    Let's  go  and  find  Mother,"  she  smiled  invitingly. 

"She  won't  let  me,"  declared  Dimmie,  reminiscent  of  past 
similar  attempts. 

"Yes,  she  will.  I'll  go  with  you,"  and  Nannie  led  him  down 
the  stairs.  "You'll  mind  Nannie  after  this,  won't  you,  dear?" 

"Yes,"  he  promised. 

"He's  going  to  be  a  good  boy  now,  Lucy,"  Nannie  an- 
nounced as  they  reached  the  dining  room,  "and  he's  sorry  he 
was  rude  to  Nannie.  Aren't  you,  Jimmie  ?" 

The  culprit  looked  at  the  paper  bag  in  his  hand. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "but  my  name's  Dimmie." 

"Oh,  yes !  I  forgot.  Of  course  it  is,"  smiled  Nannie. 

"Well,  I  hope  my  sonny  boy  won't  say  anything  like  that 
again,"  Lucy  said. 

Dimmie  went  off  with  his  candy,  meditating. 

An  hour  later  Lucy  decided  to  take  some  patterns  over  to 
Mrs.  Hamilton  who,  a  few  days  before,  had  expressed  a  wish 
to  borrow  them. 

"Now,  you  stay  with  your  grandmother,"  she  bade  Dimmie. 
"I  won't  be  long." 

"All  right,"  he  agreed,  examining  the  interior  of  the  now 
empty  paper  bag  with  evident  regret. 

A  few  moments  after  Lucy's  departure  he  began  to  whistle. 

"Don't  whistle,  Jimmie,"  commanded  Nannie  from  the  rock- 
ing chair  where  she  sat  embroidering. 

Dimmie  ceased  obediently  and  climbed  into  the  Morris  chair. 

"Don't  sit  with  your  feet  under  you,"  she  advised.  "You'll 
scratch  the  chair." 

Dimmie  dutifully  altered  his  position.  After  a  time  he  slid 
to  the  floor  and,  going  over  to  the  side  table  where  some  of 
his  nursery  books  were  kept,  selected  Mother  Goose  from 
among  them. 

"Don't  carry  your  book  that  way,"  warned  Nannie  as  he 
trudged  back  to  the  seat  he  had  quitted,  his  favorite  volume 
hugged  under  his  arm.  "You'll  wrench  the  cover  off." 


152  BLIND    MICE 

Dimmie  duly  reversed  the  position  of  the  book. 

"Don't  put  your  fingers  in  your  mouth,  Jimmie.  You're  too 
big  a  boy  to  do  that,"  she  continued,  when  he  had  seated  him- 
self for  a  comfortable  examination  of  the  illustrations  he 
admired. 

He  glanced  up  from  his  book  and  at  the  same  time  thrust  the 
offending  fingers  into  a  pocket. 

"Now,  don't  sit  with  your  hands  in  your  pockets.  You'll 
pull  your  clothes  all  out  of  shape." 

"How  shall  I  sit?"  demanded  Dimmie  somewhat  belliger- 
ently. 

"Sit  straight  in  your  chair  like  you  ought  to." 

"Uncle  Jim  never  makes  me  sit  straight  in  my  chair,"  ob- 
jected Dimmie. 

"I  don't  care  what  Uncle  Jim  does.  You  do  as  I  tell  you. 
And  use  your  handkerchief.  Don't  sniff." 

"I  ain't  got  any  handkerchief,"  he  complained,  rummaging 
in  his  pockets. 

"I  don't  know  what  your  mamma  means  by  not  giving  you 
a  handkerchief.  Why,  there  it  is  on  the  floor  by  your  chair, 
right  where  you  dropped  it !" 

"Don't  rumple  your  hair,  Jimmie!  It  makes  you  look  like 
a  scarecrow,"  was  the  next  admonition. 

"What  can  I  do?"  demanded  Dimmie,  looking  about  des- 
perately. 

"You  can  sit  still  and  be  a  good  little  boy  until  Mamma 
comes  back." 

"I  don't  want  to  sit  still,"  he  insisted. 

"But  I  want  you  to." 

"When  is  Mamma  coming  home?" 

"I  don't  know." 

"Well,  I'm  goin'  to  Mis'  Hamilton's  to  find  her." 

"No,  you're  not  going  to  do  any  such  thing." 

Dimmie  began  to  cry. 

"Now,  Jimmie,  there's  no  use  in  your  crying,  just  because 
I  want  you  to  behave  yourself  half  decently.  Stop  this  in- 
stant!" 

"I — I — w-want  my  m-mamma,"  sobbed  Dimmie  louder  than 
ever. 


BLIND    MICE  153 

"What  in  the  world  is  the  matter?"  cried  Lucy  agitatedly, 
at  this  moment  coming  in  through  the  kitchen  on  her  return 
from  her  neighbor's. 

"It  means  that  you  have  a  very  naughty  little  boy,  Lucy. 
He  wouldn't  do  anything  I  told  him  while  you  were  away." 

"I  d-did  too,"  declared  Dimmie  between  sobs.  "I  d-did  lots 
of  things." 

"Well,  you  wouldn't  sit  still  when  I  told  you,"  said  Nannie. 

"He's  a  very  little  boy  to  have  to  sit  still  such  a  long  time," 
replied  Lucy,  taking  Dimmie  on  her  lap  where  he  began  to 
cry  comfortably  with  his  head  against  her  bosom. 

"Lucy,  I'd  like  to  know  how  you  expect  me  to  have  any 
control  over  the  child  when  you  take  his  part  like  that!" 
Nannie  protested. 

"I  don't  expect  anyone  to  have  control  over  him  except  his 
father  and  myself,"  said  Lucy. 

"Yet  you  expect  me  to  look  after  him  without  any  authority 
over  him  whatever !"  retorted  Mrs.  Merwent. 

"I  won't  worry  you  with  him  again,  Mamma,"  returned 
Lucy.  "I  didn't  think  you  would  mind  for  a  few  minutes." 

"There  you  go,  Lucy!  Misunderstanding  me  again,  as 
usual.  And  over  such  a  trivial  thing,  too!  Much  gratitude 
I've  received  for  overlooking  the  past  and  coming  more  than 
half  way !  I  sometimes  think  dear  Mother  was  right  when 
she  said  you  had  no  heart.  She  never  got  over  the  way  you 
treated  her." 

After  John  and  Lucy  had  retired  to  their  room  that  night, 
Lucy  said,  "I  am  going  to  send  Dimmie  to  kindergarten,  John. 
Mrs.  Hamilton's  little  girl  goes,  and  I  believe  it's  a  good  thing 
for  young  children." 

"All  right,"  consented  John,  yawning. 

Dimmie  was  in  such  a  state  of  excitement  over  the  prospect 
of  going  to  kindergarten  with  Stella  Hamilton  that  he  could 
hardly  eat  his  breakfast.  Lucy  had  dressed  him  in  his  pret- 
tiest suit,  and,  after  the  meal,  he  wandered  aimlessly  about 
the  house,  too  conscious  of  his  ceremonious  costume  to  play. 

"Ain't  it  time  yet,  Mamma?"  he  asked  again  and  again. 

"No,  dear,  not  yet,"  his  mother  replied  on  each  occasion. 


154  BLIND    MICE 

Mrs.  Merwent  was  still  asleep  when  Lucy  telephoned  to  the 
kindergarten  for  the  carryall  to  call  for  Dimmie.  When  Nan- 
nie came  downstairs  she  was  surprised  to  find  him  in  such 
gala  array. 

"Why,  what  are  you  so  fixed  up  for,  Jimmie?"  she  asked. 

Just  then  Lucy  entered  from  the  back  yard  with  some 
flowers  in  her  hand.  It  had  rained  during  the  night  and  the 
blossoms  were  wet  and  glistening. 

"I'm  going  to  take  him  to  kindergarten,"  Lucy  explained. 
"He's  beginning  this  morning."  She  was  dressed  for  the 
street.  "You  can  breakfast  alone,  can't  you,  Mamma?" 

"Why,  of  course!"  explained  Nannie.  "That  isn't  it.  In 
fact  you  needn't  keep  any  breakfast  for  me  when  I'm  not  up 
to  eat  with  you  and  John,  as  far  as  that's  concerned.  I  never 
want  any  extra  trouble  taken  for  me." 

"There's  the  wagon !  There's  the  wagon !"  shouted  Dimmie 
impatiently  as  he  ran  in  from  the  hall. 

"Let  me  get  your  sailor  hat,"  said  Lucy  as  she  turned  away, 
a  note  of  impatience  in  her  voice. 

"What  made  you  decide  all  of  a  sudden  to  send  him  to 
kindergarten?"  asked  Nannie.  "It's  the  first  time  I've  heard 
of  such  a  plan." 

"Hurry  up,"  commanded  Dimmie.    "They'll  go  past." 

"They  won't  go  without  you,"  smiled  Lucy.  "Here's  your 
hat.  Let  me  put  it  on  for  you." 

"Why  are  you  sending  him  ?"  persisted  Nannie. 

"Why,  he's  old  enough  to  go,  and  he's  a  good  deal  of  bother, 
and  John  and  I  thought  it  would  be  good  for  him." 

"Come  on,  Mamma,"  urged  Dimmie,  pulling  at  her  skirt. 

"Bother !  I  suppose  it's  because  I  try  to  correct  him  a  little 
occasionally.  Oh,  I  comprehend  perfectly,  Lucy!  You  never 
let  a  chance  slip  to  humiliate  me  and " 

The  bell  rang,  and  through  the  open  front  door  a  man's 
voice  was  heard.  Lucy  went  into  the  hall. 

"Is  your  little  boy  going  with  us  this  morning?"  the  man 
inquired. 

"Yes,  we're  ready,"  replied  Lucy.    "Come  on,  Son." 

Nannie  heard  them  as  they  descended  the  steps.  Dimmie's 
shrill  chatter  was  wafted  back  with  the  click  of  the  gate,  the 


BLIND    MICE  155 

crack  of  a  whip,  and  the  clatter  of  the  horse's  hoofs  as  the 
carry-all  passed  up  the  street. 

John  was  much  occupied  with  new  work  and,  to  Lucy's 
relief,  continued  to  neglect  to  carry  into  effect  his  threat  re- 
garding a  servant.  However,  try  as  she  might  to  keep  down 
the  level  of  her  expenditures,  on  the  first  day  of  the  next 
month  she  found  herself  faced  with  an  unexpected  deficit. 

The  evening  meal  was  over  and  Nannie,  according  to  her 
habit,  had  gone  into  the  living  room  to  play  some  of  her 
songs.  John  rose  and  was  about  to  follow  her  when  Lucy 
called  him  back.  He  sat  down  again. 

"I  want  you  to  go  over  some  accounts  with  me,  John." 

"What  for?"  he  demurred. 

"Well,  we're  running  behind,  John,  and  we  must  do  some- 
thing about  it." 

"We've  always  had  to  figure  closely,  Lucy."  John's  man- 
ner was  nervous  and  instead  of  looking  at  his  wife,  he  glanced 
about  the  room.  "We're  not  rich  people  but  I  don't  see  why 
it  should  be  any  worse  now  than  any  other  time." 

"Our  expenses  have  about  doubled  since  Mamma  came," 
persisted  Lucy. 

"Oh,  I  don't  think  she's  had  anything  to  do  with  it,  or,  at 
least,  very  little.  One  more  person  makes  practically  no  dif- 
ference." John  made  a  motion  as  if  to  rise. 

"Just  a  minute,  John.  It  isn't  the  household  expenses  so 
much,  John,  but  we  are  spending  money  on  flowers  and  fruit 
and  candy  and  theatres  and  other  amusements  that  we  didn't 
use  to.  Miss  Powell  and  other  people  have  taken  to  dropping 
in  to  tea  in  the  afternoon.  And  it  all  counts  up." 

"Well,  it's  a  sort  of  special  time,  now  that  Nannie's  here." 
John's  tone  was  half  apologetic  yet  showed  a  tinge  of  irrita- 
tion. His  gaze  kept  wandering  toward  the  living  room.  "We 
can't  make  her  stick  in  the  house  all  the  time,  and  never  give 
her  any  little  pleasures.  I've  only  bought  her  flowers  once  or 
twice,  anyway." 

"Yes,  John,  but  Mamma  may  stay  a  long  while.  We  can't 
go  on  this  way,"  said  Lucy  gravely. 

Nannie  appeared  in  the  doorway. 


156  BLIND    MICE 

"Can't  go  on  what  way?"  she  echoed  interrogatively,  smil- 
ing at  John. 

"Oh,  Lucy  is  having  her  monthly  fret  over  money  matters," 
John  explained  with  uneasy  lightness.  "She  has  us  in  the  poor 
house  about  once  in  so  often." 

"What's  the  matter,  John?  Is  your  ousiness  going  badly?" 
Nannie  inquired. 

"Well,  no  worse  than  usual,  Nannie,  but  it's  a  small  busi- 
ness and  doesn't  bring  us  in  as  much  as  we'd  like." 

"Mr.  Sprague  is  a  full  partner  with  you,  isn't  he?" 

"Yes,  but  he's  a  bachelor,  and  a  half  interest  is  enough  for 
him  to  be  comfortable  on." 

"Jim  gave  John  our  interest  in  the  business,"  put  in  Lucy. 

"Well,  I'm  sure  he  was  thinking  of  his  own  good  when  he 
did  so,"  commented  Nannie.  "He  probably  had  to  have  some- 
body." 

"Of  course,"  agreed  Lucy  hastily.  "He  needed  a  partner 
and  was  glad  to  get  John." 

"Exactly.  He  knew  what  he  was  about,"  averred  Nannie. 
"Mr.  Sprague  is  not  the  kind  of  a  man  to  lose  anything  on 
account  of  friendship." 

"Jim  is  very  loyal,"  put  in  Lucy  again,  "and  has  been  a 
good  friend  to  John." 

"I  didn't  say  he  wasn't  loyal,  Lucy.  I  only  said  he  knew 
which  side  his  bread  was  buttered  on,"  retorted  Nannie. 

"Well,  you  implied  that  he  was  thinking  only  of  himself, 
Mamma,  and  Jim  is  not  a  selfish  man." 

"I  guess  I've  not  been  a  bad  investment  for  the  firm,"  in- 
terrupted John,  "even  if  I  didn't  put  any  money  into  it  at  the 
first." 

"Well,  I  should  fancy  not!"  Nannie  applauded  quickly. 

"Of  course  not,  John.  That  isn't  what  I  meant  at  all," 
added  Lucy.  "Jim  himself  has  said  a  dozen  times  that  he 
couldn't  have  gotten  along  without  you.  But  I  was  just  ob- 
jecting to  the  idea  that  Jim  had  exploited  you  for  his  own  in- 
terest without  considering  ours." 

"Lucy  is  always  ready  to  defend  Mr.  Sprague,"  remarked 
Nannie,  smiling  at  John  once  more.  "She's  loyal  even  if  the 
rest  of  us  may  not  be." 


BLIND    MICE  157 

John  regarded  Lucy  as  instant,  then  lowered  his  eyes. 

"No,  Mamma!  That  isn't  it,"  said  Lucy,  flushing,  "but  I 
do  so  like  to  be  just  to  everybody." 

"Well,  are  John  and  I  unjust  to  Mr.  Sprague?"  continued 
Nannie. 

"John  hasn't  been,  but  I  thought  what  you  said  was,"  reiter- 
ated Lucy  steadily. 

"Nannie  didn't  say  any  more  than  I  did,"  insisted  John 
aggressively.  "I  guess  Jim  doesn't  need  our  sympathy  over 
having  gotten  me  for  a  partner." 

"Why,  John,  how  can  you  think  I  meant  such  a  thing?" 
Lucy's  voice  showed  that  she  was  hurt. 

"Oh,  well,  let's  not  think  about  it,  as  Lucy  is  always  say- 
ing," suggested  Nannie  sweetly. 

"Yes,  for  the  Lord's  sake!"  exclaimed  John.  "Let's  quit 
stewing.  We're  no  poorer  than  we've  always  been,"  he 
finished,  as  though  dismissing  the  subject,  "and  we  have  some 
schemes  on  hand  at  the  office  that  ought  to  net  us  a  good 
thing  during  the  next  few  months." 

"I'm  sure  you  work  too  hard  down  at  that  old  office,  poor 
boy,"  and  Nannie  timidly  put  back  from  John's  forehead  the 
lock  of  hair  which  he  had  disarranged  while  talking. 

"I  like  the  work." 

"And  you  ought  to  be  better  paid  for  it,"  Nannie  went  on. 

"We  have  hopes,"  smiled  John. 

"I  don't  believe  in  women  interfering  in  business,  but  if 
you  went  into  something  for  yourself,  don't  you  think  you 
could  make  more?  As  it  is,  you  work  yourself  nearly  to 
death,  and  Mr.  Sprague  gets  half  the  profits."  Nannie's  voice 
and  manner  were  very  gentle. 

"I've  never  thought  about  it,"  John  replied,  rumpling  his 
hair  again. 

"I'm  sure  it  would  be  a  great  mistake,"  advised  Lucy 
quickly. 

"Why?"  inquired  Nannie,  looking  at  John. 

"In  the  first  place,  it  wouldn't  be  right,"  argued  Lucy,  some- 
what eagerly,  "after  all  Jim  has  done  for  us — for  John — it 
would  be " 


158  BLIND    MICE 

"Disloyal,  I  suppose,"  said  Nannie,  supplying  the  word  as 
Lucy  hesitated,  and  appearing  amused. 

"Yes,  disloyal,"  repeated  Lucy  emphatically. 

"Mr.  Sprague  certainly  has  a  good  friend  in  Lucy,"  Nan- 
nie spoke  to  John. 

Lucy  flushed  again.  Her  eyes  flashed  but  she  made  no  ver- 
bal retort. 

"Is  that  your  only  reason,  Lucy?"  pursued  Nannie  in  a 
purring  tone. 

"No!"  Lucy's  attitude  was  almost  defiant.  "It's  not. 
Jim's  ability  and  judgment  are  worth  a  great  deal  in  any 
business,  and  it  would  be  foolish  to " 

"I  suppose,  then,  you  think  John  is  not  capable  of  running 
a  business  for  himself,"  interposed  Nannie  accusingly  before 
Lucy  had  finished  speaking. 

"Lucy  is  not  very  flattering."  John's  lip  curled  slightly. 
He  produced  a  cigarette  from  his  case.  "But  I  guess  I'd 
probably  have  found  some  way  to  support  her,  even  if  I  had 
never  known  Jim." 

"Do  you  really  think  so,  John?"  asked  Nannie  ironically. 

"Don't  you?"  challenged  John,  half  laughing. 

"You  dear  boy,  you  know  I  think  you  could  do  anything," 
she  responded,  squeezing  his  arm.  "Shall  we  go  in  and  try 
the  music  now  ?" 

"Come  on,"  urged  John,  stopping,  however,  to  light  his  cig: 
arette. 

They  went  into  the  living  room. 

Lucy  remained  seated  in  the  same  position,  a  baffled  ex- 
pression on  her  face.  Dimmie  had  gone  to  sleep  in  a  chair  and 
a  few  moments  later  she  lifted  him  to  her  shoulder  and  car- 
ried him  upstairs  to  bed. 

She  did  not  return. 


XIX 

"John  said  he  was  going  to  Benton  Harbor  today,"  Nannie 
observed  to  Lucy,  who  was  seated  near  a  window,  darning 
Dimmie's  socks.  She  had  just  washed  her  hair  and  come 
down  to  the  sunny  dining  room  to  dry  it. 

"Did  he?"  Lucy  raised  her  eyes  in  involuntary  surprise, 
but  glanced  quickly  down  at  her  sewing. 

"Yes,"  continued  Nannie,  seating  herself  in  a  comfortable 
rocker.  "He  is  going  to  see  somebody  about  a  house  decora- 
tion contract." 

"Well,  he'll  be  back  for  dinner,  won't  he?"  Lucy  inquired. 

"Oh,  yes.  But  he'll  be  late,  he  said.  He  wanted  me  to  go 
with  him  but  I  was  afraid  of  getting  seasick.  It's  a  beautiful 
day  after  all,  though!"  and  she  gazed  out  the  window  regret- 
fully. "I  have  to  look  through  a  trunk,  anyway,"  she  added, 
as  if  comforting  herself. 

"I  didn't  know  he  was  going,"  said  Lucy. 

"He  was  worried  last  night  and  I  guess  he  forgot  to  tell 
you." 

Lucy  began  to  sew  with  renewed  determination. 

"I  was  right  sorry  for  John  last  night,"  Mrs.  Merwent  de- 
clared. "You  should  be  more  careful  what  you  say,  Lucy." 

"What  do  you  mean,  Mamma  ?    What  have  I  said  ?" 

"Why,  things  that  make  John  feel  that — that — why,  about 
Mr.  Sprague." 

"What  about  him?" 

Nannie's  gaze  fell  before  Lucy's. 

"Nothing  in  particular,  except  that  you  show  so  plainly  that 
you " 

"That  I  what  ?"    Lucy  demanded  almost  fiercely. 

"Well,  that  you  are  interested  in  him,"  murmured  Nannie, 
with  attempted  calmness,  adding  at  once,  "of  course  I  know 

159 


160  BLIND    MICE 

that  there  is  nothing  between  you  and  Mr.  Sprague,  but  you 
should  consider "  She  stopped  abruptly. 

"Consider  what  my  husband  might  think,  I  suppose,"  in- 
terrupted Lucy  hotly. 

"Well,  when  you  take  his  part  against  John  and  me  you 
must  admit  that  you  give  people  a  right  to  think  things." 

"You,  and  not  John,  were  the  one  who  tried  to  queer  Jim, 
and  I  would  have  taken  the  part  of  anyone  under  the  cir- 
cumstances," returned  Lucy  indignantly,  "and  if  you  want  to 
think  evil  of  it,  you  can  do  so." 

"Well,  John  agreed  with  everything  I  said,"  defended  Nan- 
nie. 

"Then,  if  he  wants  to  think  badly  of  me,  he  can  too !"  Lucy 
exclaimed  angrily.  "It  would  evidently  suit  you  if  he  did." 

"How  can  you  say  that,  Lucy,  when  I  was  trying  to  save 
you  from  just  such  things!  That's  the  gratitude  a  mother 
gets — especially  if  she's  forgiven  a  lot  in  her  child,"  com- 
plained Nannie  in  a  tremulous  voice. 

"Most  of  the  evil  you  are  always  so  anxious  to  save  me 
from  only  exists  in  your  own  mind,  Mamma.  I  would  be 
much  more  grateful  if  you  would  quit  thinking  of  nasty 
things  to  forgive  me  for,"  retorted  Lucy  bitterly. 

"Well,"  replied  Mrs.  Merwent,  "I'm  sure  I've  done  my  duty. 
I  didn't  want  John  to  get  suspicious,  but " 

"That's  why  you  keep  suggesting  vile  interpretations  of  in- 
nocent things  to  him !"  interpolated  Lucy  disgustedly,  spring- 
ing to  her  feet  and  gathering  up  her  mending. 

"Why,  Lucy,"  began  Nannie,  on  the  verge  of  tears.  But 
Lucy  went  into  the  hall,  and  ascended  the  stairs. 

A  few  moments  later  she  returned  with  her  hat  and  coat  on. 

"I'm  going  out,"  she  announced.  Her  voice  was  harsh. 
She  paused  in  the  doorway. 

Nannie  looked  up  and  met  her  daughter's  eyes  uncomfor- 
tably. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  she  asked  finally,  pulling  at  the 
handkerchief  in  her  lap  with  uncertain  fingers. 

"I'm  going  to  see  Jim." 

"Lucy !"  gasped  Mrs.  Merwent  as  the  front  door  closed  af- 
ter her  daughter. 


BLIND    MICE  161 

Jim  was  alone  and  hard  at  work  when  Lucy  reached  the  of- 
fice. The  windows  were  open  and  a  breeze  fluttered  the  papers 
on  his  desk. 

"Sit  down,"  he  invited,  leaning  back  in  his  chair  and  reach- 
ing for  his  pipe.  "How  are  you  all  getting  along  at  your 
house?  Where's  the  kid?" 

"Dimmie's  at  kindergarten." 

"Didn't  know  he'd  started  to  go,"  said  Jim. 

"Lots  of  things  have  happened  since  you  were  out,"  re- 
marked Lucy  quietly. 

"Yes  ?"    Jim  lighted  his  pipe. 

Lucy  did  not  say  more  and  Jim  smoked  a  moment  in  si- 
lence. 

"What  is  it,  Lucy?  Are  you  worried  about  something?" 
he  inquired  at  last,  blowing  out  a  cloud  of  smoke. 

Lucy  nodded  her  head  without  speaking. 

"Well,  women  always  worry  about  one  of  two  things, 
money,  or  another  woman,"  pursued  Jim  in  a  bantering  tone. 
"Which  is  it?" 

"Both,"  said  Lucy  seriously. 

Jim  looked  grave,  and  when  he  spoke  again  it  was  with  a 
different  manner. 

"Can  I  help,  Lucy?" 

"I  think  you  can,  Jim.    That's  why  I've  come." 

He  waited  for  her  to  go  on. 

"John  is  spending  too  much,  Jim,  and  Mamma  encourages 
him  in  it,"  Lucy  began,  rather  suddenly,  "and  things  are — are 
so  I  can't  do  anything.  I  thought  maybe  if  you — suggested  to 
John — it  might "  Lucy's  voice  trailed  off  in  embarrass- 
ment, and  she  opened  and  shut  her  purse  nervously. 

"I  will,"  Jim  promised  earnestly.  "You  can  depend  on  me, 
Lucy." 

"I  know  I  can,  Jim." 

"And,  Lucy " 

"Yes?" 

"About  the  money.  If  your  expenses  have  swamped  you — 
you  know  I  have  something  laid  up.  My  living  costs  me  very 
little,  and  you  are  awfully  welcome  to  what  I  have." 

"Thank  you,  Jim,  but  you  know  I  couldn't  take  any  money. 


162  BLIND    MICE 

Besides,  we  don't  need  it  yet,  but  I  am  frightened  at  the 
amount  we  are  spending." 

"I  didn't  mean — I  mean  you  could  pay  it  back  if  you  wanted 
to."  Jim  was  very  red. 

"I  understand,  Jim,  but  it  isn't  necessary." 

"I  don't  see  what's  gotten  into  John!"  he  ejaculated  with 
feeling. 

"It  isn't  John,"  said  Lucy,  "it's  Mamma." 

"Well,  he  ought  to  know "  Jim  stopped  speaking  and 

glanced  at  Lucy. 

"Yes,  Jim,  but  so  had  she." 

Jim  thought. 

"Do  you  know  yet  if  she's  going  to  stay — permanently  ?"  he 
inquired  after  a  pause. 

"I  don't  know,  Jim.  I  shouldn't  be  surprised.  She  talks 
sometimes  as  though  she  were  eventually  going  to  marry  a 
Professor  Walsh,  back  in  Russellville.  But  I  don't  know." 

Jim  smoked  hard  for  a  while.  When  he  spoke  again  his 
voice  was  low. 

"Lucy,  you  know  I  would  do  anything  in  the  world  for 
you,"  he  said.  "Anything,"  he  repeated  vehemently. 

"Yes,  Jim.  You  are  the  best  friend  that  ever  was."  Lucy 
smiled  at  him  frankly.  "But  I  don't  see  just  how  you  can  help 
in  anything  else." 

"I'd  like  to  help,"  he  offered,  almost  wistfully. 

"You  have,"  she  declared,  still  smiling.  "I  feel  a  lot  better 
already." 

"Do  you,  Lucy?"  he  asked  eagerly.  "Do  I — do  you — am 
I "  he  stammered,  growing  red  again. 

"Why,  of  course  you  do,"  she  responded  heartily  and 
naturally.  "It  always  does  me  good  to  talk  to  you."  Then 
she  added  rather  plaintively,  "Oh,  Jim,  why  can't  people  be 
honest  with  themselves  and  with  others?" 

"I'm  damned  if  I  know !"  he  declared  savagely,  not  looking 
at  her. 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  either,"  she  said,  regarding  him  affection- 
ately. "Well,  good-bye.  I'm  going  home."  She  rose  and 
shook  hands. 


BLIND    MICE  163 

"Good-bye,  Lucy.  You  can  depend  on  me."  Jim  held  her 
hand. 

"Thank  you,  Jim,"  she  answered,  pressing  his  hand. 
And  she  was  gone. 

Mrs.  Merwent  was  at  the  piano,  practising,  when  Lucy 
reached  home. 

"Well,  did  you  see  Mr.  Sprague?"  Nannie  asked  sarcasti- 
cally, going  into  the  hall  when  she  heard  the  front  door  open. 

"Yes,"  returned  Lucy  calmly. 

"You  ought  to  be  careful,  Lucy,"  reminded  Nannie.  "Of 
course  /  wouldn't  say  anything  to  John,  but  others  might." 

"You  can  say  anything  you  like  to  him,"  retorted  Lucy  in  a 
disgusted  tone.  "I'm  going  to  tell  him  myself." 

That  night  John  returned  late.  Nannie,  Lucy,  and  Dimmie 
had  finished  their  evening  meal,  and  Lucy  had  tucked  Dimmie 
safely  into  bed,  when  the  front  door  clicked  and  a  cheerful 
voice  was  heard  in  the  hall. 

"Now,  Lucy,  your  croaking  was  all  for  nothing,"  were 
John's  first  words.  "Look  there!"  he  commanded,  rushing 
into  the  living  room  and  throwing  a  pile  of  bills  on  the  table, 
his  manner  almost  hilarious. 

"How  nice!"  murmured  Nannie. 

"Where  did  that  come  from  ?"  Lucy  inquired  quickly. 

"Why,  Jim  put  over  a  deal  today  while  I  was  away,  and  this 
is  my  share  of  the  lucre,"  and  John  put  his  hands  in  his 
pockets  and  began  to  whistle. 

"What  kind  of  a  deal  was  it  ?"  persisted  Lucy. 

"Oh,  some  private  scheme  of  his.  Sold  building  materials 
or  something  on  commission,"  answered  John. 

Lucy  looked  nonplussed. 

"Didn't  Mr.  Sprague  say  anything  to  you  about  it?"  Nannie 
inquired  of  Lucy  in  an  innocent  voice. 

"Why,  was  Jim  out  here  today?"  asked  John  in  surprise. 

"No.  I  was  at  the  office,"  Lucy  explained  without  hesita- 
tion. 

"Why,  he  didn't  tell  me,"  said  John,  as  though  mystified. 
Then,  apologetically,  "I  was  only  there  a  minute,  Lucy.  Went 


164  BLIND    MICE 

to  Benton  Harbor  on  business.  I  forgot  to  say  anything  about 
going  last  night." 

"Your  dinner's  getting  cold,"  was  all  Lucy's  reply. 

As  John  seated  himself  at  the  table  a  faint  cry  was  heard 
from  the  upper  floor  and  Lucy,  exclaiming,  "That's  Dimmie !" 
left  the  room  quickly. 

"John,  I  wish  you  would  ask  Mr.  Sprague  out  again,"  re- 
quested Nannie,  when  she  thought  her  daughter  was  safely  up- 
stairs. 

John  looked  tea  singly  at  her. 

"What's  the  matter?  Are  you  getting  lonesome,  or  just 
yearning  for  more  of  Jim's  society?" 

"Will  you  ask  him  out?"  she  repeated. 

"Yes.  Of  course  I  will.  Let's  see.  Today  is  Tuesday. 
I'll  bring  him  out  Thursday  night.  He's  going  to  work  late 
tomorrow,  I  heard  him  say." 

"Now,  don't  forget,"  warned  Nannie. 


XX 

Mrs.  Merwent  came  downstairs  with  a  headache,  but  after 
her  insistent  complaints  elicited  some  sympathetic  remarks 
from  Lucy,  she  settled  herself  resignedly  to  mend  a  small 
hole  in  one  of  the  grey  silk  stockings  which  she  had  worn  to 
The  Madcap  Girl.  It  was  a  dull  day.  Lucy  picked  up  the 
morning  paper  from  the  floor  where  John  had  dropped  it  as 
he  went  out,  halted  near  a  window  and  read  aloud  at  random 
the  few  items  which  she  thought  her  mother  might  find  of 
interest. 

"I  see  here  that  Miss  Powell  was  one  of  hostesses  last  night 
at  the  Ravens  wood  Golf  Club,"  said  Lucy  in  a  determinedly 
pleasant  voice,  laying  the  paper  down. 

"She  has  relatives  with  money  so  she  can  do  such  things," 
her  mother  sighed,  dropping  the  stocking  into  her  lap  and 
staring  moodily  out  the  window.  "Little  did  I  think  I  would 
ever  be  dependent  on  your  charity,"  she  mourned,  after  a 
pause. 

Lucy  looked  quickly  at  her  mother. 

"Well,  I  don't  envy  Miss  Powell.  She's  too  self  centered 
to  be  very  happy,"  said  Lucy. 

"Like  me,  I  suppose  you  mean,"  complained  Nannie.  "I've 
ceased  to  expect  any  sympathy  from  you,  Lucy." 

"I  didn't  mean  any  such  thing,  Mamma,  and  you  know  it!" 
Lucy  spoke  with  forced  good  nature.  "You  know  I  don't 
make  oblique  or  sarcastic  comments." 

"Well,  do  I?"  demanded  her  mother.  "Did  I  ever  imply 
that  you  envied  Miss  Powell  or  anyone  else?" 

"I  didn't  mean  you  envied  her,  either,"  explained  Lucy.  "I 
only  said  7  didn't."  She  spoke  over  her  shoulder  as  she  left 
the  room. 

She  had  passed  up  the  stairs  when  the  tinkling  of  the  tele- 
phone sounded  from  the  hall  and  Nannie  rose  to  answer  it. 

"This  is  John,"  was  the  reply  to  her  faint  "hello."  "Is  this 
Nannie  speaking?" 

165 


166  BLIND   MICE 

"Yes,"  she  affirmed  weakly,  remembering  her  aching  head. 

"Well,  I  was  mistaken  about  Jim's  working  tonight.  It's 
tomorrow  night.  So  I'm  going  to  bring  him  out  this  eve- 
ning. Tell  Lucy,  will  you?" 

"Certainly,"  responded  Nannie  in  a  livelier  tone. 

"How's  your  headache?" 

"Oh,  it's  ever  so  much  better,  thank  you ;  it's  about  all  gone." 

"That's  good,"  said  John,  and  he  hung  up  the  receiver. 

Lucy,  dressed  for  the  street,  soon  came  down  stairs. 

"I'm  going  to  do  some  shopping,"  she  informed  Nannie. 
*'I  didn't  suppose  you  would  care  to  go  with  your  headache. 
I'll  be  back  by  the  time  Dimmie  comes  from  kindergarten  and 
get  him  ready  to  go  to  Mrs.  Hamilton's.  Your  lunch  is  all 
fixed  and  in  the  refrigerator.  There's  ice  tea  already  made  in 
the  blue  pitcher." 

"My  headache's  not  as  bad  as  it  was." 

"Well  it's  too  late  now  to  wait  for  you  to  dress,"  began  Lucy. 

"Oh,  don't  worry,  Lucy.  I  have  no  intention  of  going.  I've 
got  sense  enough  to  know  whether  I'm  wanted  or  not." 

"Mamma,  please,"  Lucy  begged,  almost  in  desperation. 

"Well,  Lucy,  you  started  it." 

Lucy  hurried  toward  the  hall. 

"Mr.  Sprague  is  coming  to  dinner  tonight,"  Nannie  called 
importantly. 

Lucy  halted  an  instant. 

"Well,  there's  plenty,"  she  called  back  enigmatically,  and 
went  out. 

Nannie  looked  blank  until  the  front  door  shut. 

It  was  evening  when  Lucy  returned  from  the  city.  On  the 
train  she  encountered  Mrs.  Hamilton  who  had  invited  Dim- 
mie to  take  tea  with  Stella.  John  and  Jim  had  already  ar- 
rived and  were  smoking  in  the  dining  room  when  Lucy  came 
back  from  the  Hamiltons'  where  she  had  left  Dimmie.  Nan- 
nie, in  a  careful  toilette  with  a  rose  in  her  hair,  was  chatting 
and  laughing  in  the  highest  of  spirits. 

"Hello,  Lucy!"  exclaimed  Jim  cordially,  rising  and  shaking 
hands.  "How  are  you  ?" 

"Oh,  I'm  all  right,"  Lucy  told  him,  smiling. 


BLIND   MICE  16T 

"You're  not  looking  any  too  well,"  he  observed,  glancing  at 
her  face. 

"Well,  I'm  feeling  fine,  anyway." 

"Where's  Dimmie?"  he  inquired. 

"He's  gone  out  to  tea." 

"Getting  to  be  quite  a  swell."    Jim  smiled  affectionately. 

"Yes,  and  with  a  young  lady,  too,"  she  laughed. 

"Mr.  Sprague,  I  was  talking  to  you,"  interrupted  Nannie, 
pouting. 

"Beg  your  pardon,  Mrs.  Merwent,"  said  Jim,  hastily  re- 
suming his  chair. 

"Oh,  don't  apologize.  I  don't  expect  to  compete  with  Lucy,'* 
she  declared  with  the  sweetest  intonation  of  voice. 

Jim  colored. 

"What  were  we  talking  about  ?"  he  asked,  straightening  his 
cravat. 

"There!  That  shows  how  much  attention  you  pay  to  me" 
she  gibed.  "Come  on,  John!  Let's  leave  them  together." 
She  rose  and  moved  toward  the  living  room. 

"Well,  dinner's  ready,  so  there's  no  use  in  your  taking  John 
away,"  remarked  Lucy,  without  heat.  And  the  four  sat  down 
at  the  table. 

"It's  been  a  long  time  since  you  were  here,  Mr.  Sprague," 
began  Nannie  in  a  sprightly  manner  as  she  was  serving  the 
soup. 

"Yes,"  conceded  Jim. 

"You  used  to  come  out  at  least  once  every  week  before  I 
came,  so  Lucy  tells  me,  and  always  stayed  all  night,  and  some- 
times over  Sunday." 

"I  have  been  very  busy  lately."  Jim's  tone  was  defensive 
and  he  glanced  at  Lucy. 

"And  very  successful  lately,  I  believe,"  Nannie  continued. 
"You  made  a  fine  deal  yesterday,  didn't  you?  John  told  me 
all  about  it." 

"Yes — it  was  a  good  deal." 

Jim  reddened  again  and  stared  at  the  table  cloth. 

Lucy's  eyes  were  upon  him. 

Shortly  after  dinner,  Dimmie,  escorted  to  the  back  gate  by 
Mrs.  Hamilton  and  Stella,  came  in  through  the  kitchen. 


168  BLIND    MICE 

"Mrs.  Hamilton  brought  me  to  the  back  gate,"  he  volun- 
teered as  he  entered  the  dining  room.  Then,  catching  sight 
of  Jim,  he  yelled,  "Hello,  Uncle  Jim!"  and  rushed  for  his  idol. 

"You  must  go  to  sleepy  town  now,  dear,"  suggested  Lucy, 
a  few  minutes  later.  "Say  good  night."  And  Dimmie  obeyed 
reluctantly,  but  with  a  special  tight  hug  for  "Uncle  Jim." 

Soon  the  sound  of  Lucy's  voice  as  she  sat  upstairs  singing 
Dimmie  to  sleep  was  heard  by  the  trio  in  the  dining  room. 

"I've  often  wondered  why  Lucy  never  sang  before  people," 
declared  Jim,  lighting  his  pipe.  "She  certainly  has  a  beauti- 
ful voice." 

"I  gave  her  piano  lessons  for  years,"  answered  Nannie 
quickly,  "but  she  hasn't  kept  it  up.  The  reason  I  didn't  have 
her  voice  trained  is  that  her  ear  is  not  true." 

"I  never  noticed  that  and  I  have  overheard  her  singing  a 
number  of  times,"  persisted  Jim.  "Now  take  that  thing  from 
Butterfly  she  is  singing  now,  for  instance.  She  places  the 
difficult  intervals  with  absolute  precision.  And  Puccini's  mu- 
sic is  tricky." 

"Oh,  I  never  knew  you  understood  music,  Mr.  Sprague. 
You  never  seemed  particularly  interested  in  it." 

"Why,  I  have  listened  to  your  singing  with  much  pleasure, 
Mrs.  Merwent." 

"You  couldn't  get  away  from  it,"  Nannie  laughed.  "Come 
on,  John.  Shall  I  sing  for  you?  Mr.  Sprague  can  shut  the 
door  if  he  doesn't  like  it!"  Nannie  passed  into  the  living 
room,  followed  by  John. 

Lucy  came  down  stairs. 

"Well,  Jim,  are  you  deserted?"  was  her  question,  as  she 
opened  the  dining  room  door  and  saw  him  there  alone. 

He  nodded  his  head  without  speaking. 

"Let's  go  in  and  hear  Mamma  sing,"  she  suggested. 

He  hesitated  a-n  instant  as  if  about  to  make  some  comment, 
and  then  followed  her. 

Mrs.  Merwent  ceased  singing  and  swung  around  on  the 
piano  stool  as  they  entered. 

"Go  on,  Mamma.  Don't  stop,"  Lucy  urged,  seating  her- 
self and  indicating  a  chair  to  Jim. 

"Mr.  Sprague  had  rather  hear  you,"  said  Nannie. 


BLIND   MICE  169 

"Nonsense,  Mamma.  You  know  I  never  sing,"  protested 
Lucy,  looking  embarrassed.  "What  were  you  singing?" 

"It's  a  little  thing  called  Juliet  at  the  Window." 

"There's  to  be  a  revival  of  Romeo  and  Juliet  at  the  Stand- 
ard Theatre  next  week,"  observed  John. 

"Yes.  I  saw  by  the  papers  that  that  little  Hilda  Knowlton 
is  going  to  play  Juliet.  She's  much  too  young  for  the  part," 
said  Nannie. 

"I  don't  see  how  she  well  could  be,"  objected  Jim. 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean,  Mr.  Sprague,"  began  Nan- 
nie. "I've  seen  Mary  Anderson,  and  Adelaide  Neilson,  and 
Julia  Arthur,  and  Eleanor  Robson,  and  Julia  Marlowe,  all  in 
the  part,  and  they  weren't  young  girls  in  their  teens." 

"Well,  according  to  the  play  a  young  girl  in  her  teens  would 
be  exactly  suited  to  the  role,"  answered  Jim  tenaciously. 

"I'm  sure  that's  the  first  time  I  ever  heard  anyone  say  such 
a  thing,"  retorted  Nannie. 

"I'm  not  the  only  one  who  said  so."  Jim  was  smiling  but 
obstinate. 

"For  instance?"  demanded  Nannie  sneeringly. 

"Shakespeare,"  replied  Jim. 

"Nonsense !"  Nannie  exclaimed  irritably. 

Jim  walked  to  the  bookcase  and  took  down  a  volume  of 
Shakespeare's  plays. 

"  'Act  one,  scene  three,' "  he  read.  "  'She's  not  fourteen. 
Come  Lammas-eve  at  night,  she  shall  be  fourteen.' " 

"Well,  I've  always  thought  she  was  older  anyway,"  insisted 
Nannie,  "and  I'm  sure  almost  everybody  thinks  so.  I've  never 
seen  a  young  chit  of  a  girl  take  the  part,  and  it  would  gen- 
erally be  considered  ridiculous." 

"Perhaps  Shakespeare  didn't  know,"  said  Jim. 

"Oh,  well,  if  you  want  to  be  sarcastic  and  nasty  about  it, 
we  better  not  discuss  it.  I  suppose  you  feel  very  superior  and 
triumphant  over  having  gotten  the  best  of  me.  I'm  sure  it 
makes  no  difference  to  me  how  old  Juliet  is  supposed  to  be. 
Of  course  you  never  make  any  mistakes,  Mr.  Sprague." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Mrs.  Merwent,  for  having  ventured  to 
offer  an  opinion  on  the  subject,"  apologized  Jim  coldly. 

"Here!    You  two  people  will  be  pulling  hair  in  a  minute," 


170  BLIND    MICE 

interrupted  John,  breezily.    "Let's  talk  about  something  else." 

"With  pleasure,"  agreed  Jim  in  the  same  frigid  tone. 

Mrs.  Merwent  rose  without  a  word  and  made  her  way  to 
the  dining  room. 

"Where  are  you,  Nannie?"  John  called  after  a  few  min- 
utes. Receiving  no  reply,  he  stepped  to  the  door. 

"What  are  you  sitting  out  here  alone  for  ?"  he  began.  Then, 
in  response  to  a  sign  from  her,  he  entered  the  room. 

"You  and  Jim  don't  seem  to  get  on  very  well  tonight."  He 
spoke  in  a  lowered  voice  as  he  seated  himself  by  her  side. 

"Well,  I'm  amazed  that  you  do,"  she  responded  cryptically. 

"What  do  you  mean,  Nannie?" 

Mrs.  Merwent  raised  her  eyebrows  significantly. 

"You  watch  him,"  she  advised,  almost  in  a  whisper. 

"Watch  him?"  John  repeated  in  surprise.  "Why,  what  for?" 

"Remember  what  I  say!"  she  whispered.  "You  watch  his 
attitude  toward  Lucy.  Didn't  you  notice  how  anxious  she 
was  to  defend  him  last  night?" 

An  expression  of  understanding  came  into  John's  eyes. 

"Why,  Nannie,  you  don't  mean "    He  paused. 

"I  don't  mean  anything."  She  paused.  "But  it's  as  I  said  the 
other  night,"  she  added;  "you're  too  good  and  trusting,  John." 

In  the  other  room  Jim  had  risen  to  take  his  departure. 

"It's  early  yet,"  Lucy  was  saying. 

"I  must  get  back,"  he  insisted. 

"Well,  thank  you  for  coming,  anyway." 

"I'm  afraid  I've  done  no  good,"  he  answered,  discouragedly. 

"You've  certainly  done  no  harm,  Jim." 

"I  don't  know."    He  shook  his  head. 

They  went  into  the  hall  and  he  took  up  his  hat. 

"Good-bye,  Mrs.  Merwent.  Good  night,  John,"  he  said 
formally,  stepping  to  the  dining  room  door. 

"Good  night,"  returned  John  absently. 

"Good-bye,  Mr.  Sprague,"  Nannie  responded  in  her  usual 
silvery  tones. 

As  he  was  leaving,  Jim  grasped  Lucy's  hand  warmly. 

After  he  had  gone,  Lucy  came  to  the  dining  room  door  and 
glanced  in  at  Nannie  and  John.  Then  she  turned  away  and 
ascended  the  stairs.  Neither  of  them  had  noticed  her. 


XXI 

Egged  on  by  Nannie,  John,  though  temporarily  distracted 
by  other  matters,  had  not  relinquished  his  determination  to  se- 
cure a  servant,  and  one  morning,  as  the  result  of  his  efforts,  a 
girl  from  an  employment  agency  presented  herself. 

"My  name  is  Grace  Stanley,"  she  announced,  handing  Lucy 
the  note  of  introduction  which  John  had  sent,  "and  I  do  no 
washing,  ironing,  or  mending,  and  I  want  Thursday  and  Sat- 
urday afternoons  off.  Of  course  I'll  stay  today,"  she  con- 
cluded. 

Lucy,  whose  protests  had  been  in  vain,  had  been  warned 
of  John's  intention  the  morning  before  and  now  without  com- 
ment led  the  girl  to  the  servant's  room. 

About  noon  Nannie  appeared,  carefully  made  up  and  taste- 
fully dressed  in  a  white  and  green  linen  gown.  The  new  ser- 
vant had  removed  her  corsets  and  exchanged  her  shoes  for 
felt  house  slippers.  And,  when  Nannie  entered  the  dining 
room,  was  cleaning  the  silver  ware.  Grace,  from  the  corner  of 
her  eye,  gave  Mrs.  Merwent  a  shrewd  glance. 

"Good  morning,"  said  Nannie,  passing  on  to  the  next  room 
where  she  sat  down  to  the  piano. 

She  finished  running  over  some  music'  and  turned  on  the 
stool. 

"My,  but  you  sing  pretty !"  exclaimed  Grace,  who  had  been 
watching  unnoticed  in  the  doorway. 

"Thank  you."  Nannie  smiled  condescendingly,  rising  to 
pick  up  a  volume  of  songs  which  she  had  laid  on  a  nearby 
chair. 

"Is  there  anything  I  can  do  for  you  before  I  start  luncheon, 
Mrs.  Winter?"  the  servant  inquired,  still  hesitating  in  the 
doorway. 

"I  am  Mrs.  Merwent.  Mrs.  Winter  is  my  daughter.  Yes, 

171 


172  BLIND    MICE 

you  can  come  upstairs  with  me  and  I  will  show  you  how  I 
wish  my  room  done  every  day." 

"Certainly,  Mrs.  Merwent,"  acceded  Grace.  And  the  two 
went  upstairs  together. 

"I  surely  never  would  have  taken  you  to  be  Mrs.  Winter's 
mother,"  the  girl  asserted  with  conviction,  as  they  entered 
Nannie's  room. 

"Grace!"  Lucy  called  from  the  lower  hall  a  few  minutes 
later.  "Where  are  you,  Grace  ?" 

"I'm  busy,  Mrs.  Winter,"  the  girl  called  in  answer. 

"Well,  leave  whatever  you  are  doing.  I  want  you  to  begin 
luncheon.  It's  late  already." 

"I  can't  come  now,  Mrs.  Winter,"  was  Grace's  retort.  "I'm 
helping  Mrs.  Merwent." 

"Wait  a  minute,  Lucy.  I'm  explaining  the  work  to  Grace," 
Nannie  shouted  impatiently. 

Lucy  went  to  the  kitchen  and  began  to  prepare  the  meal  her- 
self. 

"Is  that  a  picture  of  you,  Mrs.  Merwent?"  Grace  was  ask- 
ing Nannie,  pointing  to  a  photograph  on  the  dressing  table. 

"Yes,  but  it  was  taken  a  long  time  ago,"  Nannie  explained 
modestly. 

"It's  a  good  likeness,"  declared  Grace. 

"Oh,  I  look  lots  older  than  that  now !"  protested  Nannie. 

"Well,  maybe  you  do  look  a  teeny  bit  older,  but  I  didn't 
notice  it,"  Grace  admitted,  scrutinizing  the  picture  again. 
"Ain't  Mrs.  Winter  your  step-daughter?"  she  pursued. 

"No.    She's  my  own  daughter,"  confessed  Nannie. 

"My,  but  you  must  have  got  married  young !"  exclaimed  the 
girl. 

"Now,  you  can  go  down  and  help  Mrs.  Winter,"  suggested 
Nannie  pleasantly.  "You  understand  how  I  want  things. 
And  don't  forget  to  do  my  room  first  always." 

"I'll  not  forget,"  Grace  promised,  "and  whenever  you  want 
anything,  you  just  call  me,  Mrs.  Merwent." 

"I  will,  thank  you,  Grace."  Nannie  smiled,  and  the  serv- 
ant descended  to  the  kitchen. 

Lucy  was  looking  hot  and  tired  when  luncheon  was  served. 

"Why  is  it  that  Jimmie  always  goes  so  early  to  kindergarten 


BLIND   MICE  173 

now-a-days  ?"  Mrs.  Merwent  asked  her  when  they  had  seated 
themselves  at  the  table. 

"He  goes  over  to  Mrs.  Hamilton's  after  his  breakfast,"  re- 
plied Lucy,  "and  the  wagon  calls  there  for  both  children." 

"I  should  think  you  would  let  him  go  from  here,"  observed 
Nannie.  "I  don't  see  the  advantage  of  his  going  over  to  Mrs. 
Hamilton's  so  early.  And  after  he  comes  back  you  always 
send  him  or  take  him  some  place.  A  child  ought  not  to  be 
away  from  home  so  much.  It's  not  good  for  him." 

Lucy  made  no  answer. 

"One  would  think  that  you'd  like  to  see  more  of  your  child, 
Lucy.  I  used  to  be  miserable  when  you  were  at  school.  But 
it  looks  as  though  you  send  him  away  on  purpose.  Perhaps 
you  want  to  keep  him  away  from  my  evil  influence  ?" 

Lucy  continued  silent. 

"Why  don't  you  say  right  out,  Lucy,  that  you  don't  want  me 
to  have  anything  to  do  with  him  ?" 

"That  isn't  true,  Mamma,  that  I  don't  want  you  to  see  any- 
thing of  him." 

"I  suppose,  then,  you  didn't  send  him  to  kindergarten  to  get 
him  away  from  me?" 

"Well,  I  thought  he  bothered  you  a  great  deal,  Mamma,  and 
you  and  he  are  always  quarreling." 

"Quarreling!  I  quarrel  with  a  five  year  old  child!  You 
have  a  very  dignified  mother,  I  must  say!  No,  that  excuse 
won't  work.  The  real  reason  is  that  you  want  to  estrange 
the  child  from  me  so  you  can  have  his  affection  all  for  your- 
self." 

"No,  Mamma.  That's  not  so.  But  I  do  think  it  is  bad  for 
Dimmie  to  have  you  correcting  him  every  time  he  breathes. 
Children  should  have  a  great  deal  of  consideration." 

"And  I  have  no  consideration  for  him!  I  nag  him  every 
time  he  breathes!  Lucy,  of  all  the  unjust,  unkind  things  to 
say,  and  from  my  own  daughter,  too!  After  all  I've  gone 
through  for  you!  If  I'd  only  followed  poor  Mother's  advice 
and  never  come !  Well,  I'll  tell  you  this  much,  Lucy,  /  have 
some  rights  in  the  matter  too,  and  I  will  not  have  my  own 
grandson  poisoned  against  me !" 


174  BLIND    MICE 

"Well,  I  have  some  rights,  too!"  flared  Lucy.  "I  will  not 
have  my  child  badgered  to  death  by  anybody !" 

"Badgered!  Well,  I  never!  The  child  doesn't  belong  to 
you  alone,  Lucy.  He  has  a  father,  too,  and  we'll  see  what 
John  has  to  say  about  it!" 

"It  makes  no  difference  what  he  says,"  returned  Lucy  hotly. 
"You  shall  not  ruin  my  boy,  and  neither  shall  his  father!" 
Her  eyes  shone  and.  her  breast  heaved. 

"Why,  Lucy!  What  are  you  getting  into  such  a  rage 
about?"  Nannie  temporized  suddenly.  "Anyone  would  think 
I  was  asking  permission  to  murder  him  instead  of " 

"That's  exactly  what  you  are  doing!"  cried  Lucy  bitterly. 
"You  would  like  to  murder  his  soul.  You  want  to  interfere 
with  every  thought  and  impulse  the  child  has !" 

"Why,  Lucy "    Nannie  began  again  indignantly. 

"Don't  'Lucy'  me!"  interrupted  her  daughter  vehemently, 
rising  from  her  chair.  "I  tell  you  I  won't  have  my  child  tor- 
tured by  you  or  anyone  else.  If  it's  to  be  that  or  nothing  we 
had  better  decide  to  part  right  now.  So  far  as  my  own  life 

goes,  I  say  nothing,  but  my  child "  She  halted  for  breath, 

trembling  with  emotion. 

"Lucy!"    Nannie  almost  shrieked,  rising  also. 

Lucy  stared  at  her  mother  steadfastly  for  a  moment,  and 
did  not  speak.  Nannie  broke  into  hysterical  sobbing.  Lucy 
continued  to  regard  her  unmoved. 

"Oh,  Lucy,  do  you  want  to  break  my  heart  ?"  Nannie  wailed. 

"No,"  said  Lucy  at  last,  the  peculiar  hard  expression  on  her 
face  relaxing  slightly. 

"Things  used  to  be  so  different,"  moaned  Mrs.  Merwent  be- 
tween sobs.  "We  were  so  congenial.  And  now  that  poor 
Mother's  dead,  when  I'm  all  alone  and  need  affection  so  badly, 
ind  have  forgiven  all  the  past,  to  think  that  you  could  say 
such  things  to  me !"  And  she  wept  afresh. 

Lucy  gazed  at  her  with  a  look  which  mingled  pity  with  con- 
tempt. 

"Oh,  Lucy,  do  you  hate  me?"  Nannie's  voice  was  be- 
seeching. 

"No,"  Lucy  repeated  impassively,  hesitating  a  moment  be* 
fore  she  answered. 

5 


BLIND   MICE  175 

"Then,  love  me,  Lucy !  Don't  look  at  me  that  way !"  Nan- 
nie threw  her  arms  around  her  daughter's  neck. 

For  a  moment  Lucy  submitted  to  the  caress  without  re- 
sponding. Then  she  put  her  arms  around  her  mother. 

"I  can't  bear  to  have  anything  between  us.  We  have  al- 
Mrays  been  so  close  together,"  said  Nannie,  sniffing  gently. 

Lucy  glanced  across  her  mother's  shoulder  and  saw  Grace 
standing  in  the  doorway. 

"You  can  clear  the  table,"  Lucy  ordered  the  girl  sharply, 
at  the  same  time  loosening  herself  from  Nannie's  embrace. 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  agreed  Grace  cheerfully. 

Nannie  went  upstairs  to  her  room.  She  was  followed,  al- 
most at  once,  by  Grace. 

"Poor  Mrs.  Merwent,"  the  girl  began,  coming  into  Nannie's 
room  without  knocking.  "You  look  all  pale  and  wore  out." 

Nannie  observed  her  rouged  cheeks  in  the  mirror,  peering 
over  the  girl's  head  surreptitiously. 

"Am  I  pale,  Grace?"  she  inquired  nervously. 

"No.  Not  exactly  pale,"  amended  the  girl,  "but  your  eyes 
look  tired  and  you  are  worried." 

"Do  I  show  wrinkles?"  insisted  Nannie. 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Grace  hastily,  "but  it  breaks  my  heart  to 
see  you  look  so  sad." 

"It's  nothing,  Grace.  We  all  have  our  troubles.  But  you 
are  a  good,  kind-hearted  girl.  Thank  you." 

"Is  there  anything  you  want?"  offered  Grace  solicitously. 

"No.  Not  now.  You  can  help  Mrs.  Winter.  If  I  need  you, 
I'll  call." 

"All  right,  Mrs.  Merwent.  "I'll  run  up  again  after  a  while." 
And  Grace  descended  the  stairs,  humming  a  song  under  her 
breath. 

Lucy  was  in  the  kitchen  beating  eggs. 

"Did  you  move  some  money  that  was  on  the  writing  table 
in  the  living  room,  Grace?"  she  asked  as  the  girl  entered. 

"Why,  no  ma'am.  Of  course  not!"  denied  Grace  vigor- 
ously. 

"I  can't  find  it,"  said  Lucy. 

"Well,  I  didn't  touch  it,"  reasserted  the  girl  with  some  in- 
dignation. "I  don't  do  such  things,  Mrs.  Winter." 


176  BLIND   MICE 

"I  didn't  say  you  took  it,  Grace,"  responded  Lucy  patiently. 
"I  thought  you  might  have  moved  it,  that's  all.  I've  looked 
every  place  for  it." 

"No,  I  didn't  touch  it,"  Grace  repeated. 

Lucy  went  upstairs. 

"Mamma,  did  you  put  away  some  money  that  was  on  the 
desk  in  the  dining  room?"  she  inquired. 

"Why,  no,  Lucy,  I  never  touch  anything"  Nannie  stated. 

"Well,  it's  very  funny.  I  laid  it  down  and  came  up  here, 
and  when  I  went  back  it  was  gone." 

"Maybe  you  locked  it  up,  Mrs.  Winter,  and  then  forgot  it." 
Grace's  voice  startled  them  both. 

Lucy  turned  toward  the  girl  who  was  standing  in  the  hall 
just  outside  the  door. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  following  me  about,  Grace?"  she 
reproved  with  vexation. 

"I  only  came  up  to  see  how  Mrs.  Merwerit  was."  Grace  had 
an  injured  air. 

"Why,  are  you  sick  ?"    Lucy  faced  her  mother  quickly. 

"No-o.  Just  a  slight  headache,  that's  all,"  murmured  Nan- 
nie with  some  confusion. 

"You  didn't  tell  me  anything  about  it,"  said  Lucy. 

"Why,  it's  nothing. 

"You  better  start  your  work,  Grace,  if  you  expect  to  have 
dinner  on  time."  Lucy  spoke  to  the  girl  again. 

Grace  went  off  sulkily. 

"I  don't  like  that  girl,"  Lucy  complained  when  Grace  had 
gone. 

"Why,  I  don't  see  anything  the  matter  with  her.  She  is  ex- 
tremely thoughtful  and  respectful." 

"Well,  she  doesn't  do  her  work,  for  one  thing,  and  eaves- 
drops for  another,  and  I  am  going  to  have  the  matter  of  this 
money  cleared  up." 

"I  don't  think  you  ought  to  accuse  her  of  stealing  without 
any  proof,  Lucy.  It  is  so  easy  to  be  unjust.  I  know  what 
it  is  to  be  misunderstood  myself." 

"Injustice  is  the  last  thing  I  have  in  mind,"  declared  Lucy 
as  she  was  leaving  the  room,  "but  I  can't  let  a  thing  like  this 
pass  without  doing  something." 


BLIND   MICE  177 

In  about  an  hour  Grace  tapped  at  Nannie's  door. 

"Come  in,"  Nannie  called. 

The  girl  entered  noiselessly,  as  usual.  She  carried  a  tray 
on  which  were  a  teapot,  cup  and  saucer,  and  a  plate  of  but- 
tered toast. 

"I've  fixed  you  a  little  tea  and  toast,  Mrs.  Merwent,"  she 
announced.  "Maybe  if  you  eat  a  little  it  will  make  you  feel 
better." 

"Wait  a  minute,  till  I  put  these  things  away."  Nannie 
glanced  up  from  the  open  bureau  drawer  before  which  she 
was  kneeling.  Then,  seeing  the  tray,  she  rose  to  her  feet. 

"Thank  you,  Grace,  but  I  don't  feel  like  eating,"  she  pro- 
tested mournfully. 

"Oh,  try  just  a  teeny  bit.  Here,  I'll  pour  the  tea  out  for 
you.  Eat  just  this  little  bit  of  toast.  See  how  brown  and 
crisp  it  is.  You  ought  to  try  to  eat,  Mrs.  Merwent.  I  noticed 
you  ate  hardly  any  lunch  at  all." 

"Well,  all  right,  Grace,  seeing  that  you  have  been  thought- 
ful enough  to  fix  it."  And  Nannie  began  to  eat  with  good 
appetite.  "I  didn't  think  I  could  touch  a  bite,  but  you've 
fixed  everything  so  nicely.  I  don't  usually  eat  much,"  she  de- 
clared defensively  after  a  few  moments.  She  smiled  wanly  at 
Grace,  munching  the  toast  as  she  spoke. 

"That's  right,"  said  the  girl  approvingly.  "You  ought  to 
eat  more." 

There  was  a  pause. 

"Did  Mrs.  Winter  find  the  money  she  misplaced?"  Grace 
questioned  casually.  "Here,  let  me  pour  you  another  cup  of 
tea,"  she  added. 

"I  don't  think  so,  Grace.  But  it  will  turn  up  some  place  or 
other,"  replied  Nannie,  holding  out  her  cup  for  the  girl  to 
fill. 

"Well,  if  it  don't,  I  never  touched  it" 

"I'm  sure  you  didn't,  Grace." 

"We're  going  to  have  cold  roast  and  hot  potatoes  for  din- 
ner, Mrs.  Merwent.  How  do  you  like  potatoes  best?  Shall 
I  fix  them  au  gratinf"  asked  Grace,  mispronouncing  the 
French  very  badly. 

"I  like  scalloped  potatoes  best,"  specified  Nannie. 


178  BLIND    MICE 

"All  right.  I'll  fix  'em  that  way.  And  the  salad,  shall  I 
fix  mayonnaise  or  French  dressing?" 

"Mayonnaise,  if  it's  not  too  much  work." 

"Oh,  I  don't  mind  the  work."  Grace  laughed.  "I  want  to 
have  things  as  you  like  'em."  She  picked  up  the  tray.  "If 
you  want  me,  just  call  me,"  she  reminded  Nannie,  and  de- 
parted as  before,  humming  the  same  song. 

Lucy  came  into  the  kitchen  a  little  later. 

"You  can  get  the  potatoes  ready  to  bake,  Grace,"  she  di- 
rected, "and  make  the  French  dressing  for  the  salad  while 
they  are  baking." 

"I  was  goin'  to  scallop  the  potatoes,"  objected  Grace.  "Mrs. 
Merwent  said  she  liked  'em  that  way,  and  she  wanted  mayon- 
naise for  the  salad." 

"Well,  I  don't  care,  if  you  have  time  to  do  it.  Mr.  Winter 
likes  to  have  his  dinner  promptly." 

"I'll  get  it  in  time,  all  right,  all  right.  You  just  leave  me 
alone,"  stipulated  Grace. 

It  was  several  days  before  Lucy  made  an  issue  of  Grace. 

About  ten  o'clock  one  morning,  missing  the  girl  from  the 
kitchen,  she  tapped  at  the  door  of  the  servant's  room.  Re- 
ceiving no  response  to  her  knock,  and  hearing  the  sound  of 
snoring,  she  looked  in.  Finding  Grace  asleep,  she  awakened 
her. 

"Haven't  you  anything  to  do,  Grace?  Go  and  start  lunch- 
eon at  once." 

The  girl  descended  the  stairs,  Lucy  following  her. 

"You  can  hash  and  brown  the  potatoes  that  were  left. 
They're  in  the  refrigerator." 

"There  ain't  no  potatoes  left,"  objected  Grace  sulkily. 

"Why,  where  are  they?  I  told  yon  to  save  them  for 
luncheon." 

"I  throwed  'em  away." 

"What  did  you  mean  by  throwing  them  away  after  I  told 
you  to  put  them  in  the  refrigerator?" 

"I  don't  like  warmed  over  things,"  Grace  informed  her  in- 
solently. 

"You  will  not  be  needed  after  tomorrow,   Grace,"  pro- 


BLIND    MICE  179 

nounced  Lucy  angrily.  "Your  week  is  up  then.  Of  course  I 
will  pay  you  an  extra  week's  wages." 

"Why,  what  have  I  done,  Mrs.  Winter?"  was  the  answer  in 
a  tone  of  injured  innocence. 

"We  need  not  discuss  it.  It  is  sufficient  that  I  shall  not  re- 
quire your  services  after  tomorrow." 

"If  you  are  hinting  that  I  took  that  money,  Mrs.  Winter,  I 
will  just  let  you  know  that  there  is  protection  for  a  girl  who 
is  accused  falsely  of  stealing." 

"I'm  not  accusing  you,"  returned  Lucy.  "The  money  dis- 
appeared. So  did  a  dollar  bill  I  purposely  placed  on  the  table. 
I  have  no  proof  that  you  took  either  sum,  but  I  am  not  com- 
pelled to  keep  anyone  in  my  employ  unless  I  wish,  so  we  will 
consider  the  matter  settled." 

Grace  sought  Nannie's  room  without  delay. 

Not  long  after,  Nannie  presented  herself  in  the  living  room 
where  Lucy  was  engaged. in  straightening  some  papers  on  the 
desk.  The  girl  had  remained  upstairs. 

"What  are  you  discharging  Grace  for,  Lucy?"  Nannie  be- 
gan excitedly. 

"I  think  I  have  good  reasons,  Mamma,  or  I  shouldn't  do  it." 

"I'm  afraid  you  are  prejudiced  against  her,  Lucy.  She  com- 
plains to  me  that  you  are  not  treating  her  fairly." 

"I  must  be  the  judge  of  what  I  am  doing,  Mamma." 

"Well,  I  should  be  careful  about  reflecting  on  her  character 
and  honesty.  You  don't  know  that  she  took  that  money,  and  I 
am  convinced  that  she  didn't.  A  girl  who  is  considerate  and 
thoughtful  of  others  is  not  likely  to  be  a  thief." 

"I  have  accused  her  of  nothing,  Mamma,  but  I  will  not  have 
her  around." 

"Now,  Lucy,  of  course  I  know  that  you  think  I  should  never 
say  a  word  in  this  house,  but  I  think  it's  my  duty  to  protest  in 
this  matter."  Mrs.  Merwent  assumed  an  expression  of  great 
dignity. 

"I'm  a  better  judge  than  you  are  of  what  kind  of  a  servant 
I  want,"  retorted  Lucy,  her  cheeks  flushing. 

"In  other  words,  I  should  attend  to  my  own  business." 

"Well,  Mamma,  you  certainly  ought  to  know  that  I  am  the 
one  to  take  the  responsibility  in  such  matters." 


180  BLIND    MICE 

"Without  considering  the  wishes  or  comfort  of  anyone  else 
in  the  family!"  snapped  Nannie.  "Of  course  I  might  have 
known  that  /  needn't  expect  to  be  considered.  /  never  count 
for  anything." 

"I  think  the  lack  of  consideration  is  on  your  part,  Mamma. 
You  don't  care  if  the  girl  is  lazy  and  inefficient  and  dishonest. 
Just  so  long  as  she  flatters  you  and  pays  you  special  attention, 
you  stand  up  for  her.  The  welfare  of  the  family  is  nothing." 

"Of  course  I  might  have  expected  to  be  insulted.  It's  not 
true,  I  tell  you!  I  wasn't  thinking  of  myself  at  all.  I  know 
you  are  jealous  and  resentful  whenever  anybody  pays  me  the 
least  attention,  but  my  only  thought  was  simple  justice  to  the 
girl.  I  don't  propose  to  see  anybody  misused.  We'll  see  what 
John  says  to  your  putting  a  girl  in  the  street  without  provoca- 
tion." 

"You  can  tell  John,  or  anybody  else  you  want -to,  but  I  shall 
do  as  I  please  in  my  own  house,"  flared  Lucy,  and  left  the 
room. 

When  John  came  home  that  evening  he  found  Nannie  alone 
in  the  living  room.  She  was  in  tears. 

"Why  what's  the  matter,  Nannie?"  he  cried  in  consterna- 
tion. 

"Oh,  John !"  She  wept.  "I  don't  know  what  has  come  over 
Lucy!  I've  tried  so  hard  to  overlook  everything,  and  came 
here  with  a  fixed  determination  to  forget  the  past  and  all  I've 
suffered  on  account  of  her,  and  now  she  treats  me  like  this ! 
She  knows  that  I'm  at  her  mercy,  too.  I  was  brought  up  to 
expect  such  a  different  fate!" 

"Why,  what  has  she  done?"  he  asked  anxiously. 

"She  wants  to  dismiss  Grace  just  because  the  girl  likes  me, 
and  Lucy  can't  bear  to  have  anybody  prefer  me  to  her." 

Lucy  entered  the  living  room. 

"What's  this  about  your  wanting  to  discharge  the  girl, 
Lucy?"  he  questioned.  "Have  you  got  any  reason  for  it?" 

"I  certainly  shouldn't  want  to  unless  I  had,"  replied  Lucy 
coldly. 

"Well,  Lucy,  you  know  you  acknowledged  yourself  that  you 


BLIND    MICE  181 

had  no  proof  that  she  took  the  money,"  put  in  Nannie  gently, 
wiping  her  eyes. 

"Yes.  I  didn't  think  she  took  it  when  you  told  me,  Lucy," 
supplemented  John. 

"It  was  twice "  began  Lucy. 

"You  probably  spent  it  and  forgot  all  about  it,"  interrupted 
John. 

"No,  I  didn't."  Lucy's  tone  was  rebellious.  "I  always  put 
down  every  cent  I  spend,  and  besides,  I  don't  like  the  girl  any- 
way." 

"You've  never  liked  her,  Lucy,"  put  in  Nannie  again. 

"Now,  Lucy,  you  shouldn't  let  personal  prejudices  make 
you  unjust."  John's  manner  was  lofty.  "If  Grace  has  faults, 
speak  to  her  about  them,  but  don't  allow  a  whim  to  destroy  the 
girl's  livelihood.  If  Nannie  wants  the  girl  to  stay,  surely  it 
is  a  little  thing  to  make  enough  effort  to  readjust  things,  in- 
stead of  putting  her  in  the  street." 

"John,"  Lucy  began  once  more  in  a  suppressed  voice,  "my 
comfort  and  convenience  and  welfare  used  to  be  enough  to 
justify  any  change  I  saw  fit  to  make  in  our  home." 

"Of  course  7  have  changed  you  into  an  inconsiderate  hus- 
band, John,"  jeered  Nannie. 

"Oh,  nonsense,  Lucy,"  answered  John  irritably.  "You  are 
always  magnifying  every  suggestion  into  some'  terrible  injury 
now-a-days.  You  should  get  more  sense  of  humor.  There's 
no  sense  or  reason  for  discharging  Grace  and  you  shouldn't  act 
babyish  about  it." 

Lucy  controlled  herself  with  an  effort.  Tears  stood  in  her 
eyes. 

"There  is  a  reason,  more  than  one  reason,  John." 

"What?" 

"Well,  she  is  wasteful,  for  one  thing.  She  uses  a  third  more 
groceries  than  I  did." 

"Rot!  That's  just  an  excuse.  You  don't  like  the  girl  be- 
cause Nannie  does.  She's  going  to  stay.  I'm  not  going  to 
hunt  up  a  new  girl  every  week !" 

Lucy  gave  him  a  look  that  startled  him  with  its  hostility, 
and  left  the  room  without  a  word.  When  she  did  not  appear 


182  BLIND    MICE 

for  dinner  Mrs.  Merwent  went  upstairs  to  call  her,  but  re- 
turned alone. 

"She  says  she  doesn't  want  any  dinner,"  Nannie  informed 
John.  "Shall  we  begin  without  her?" 

"Why,  of  course.    If  she  wants  to  pout,  let  her." 

"You  poor  boy !"  continued  Nannie,  straightening  his  cravat. 
"It  isn't  pleasant  for  you  to  come  home  and  find  things  like 
this,  when  you  work  so  hard  all  day.  But  you  must  be  patient 
with  Lucy,  John.  I  used  to  have  to  be  when  she  was  a  girl." 

Without  waiting  for  him  to  reply  Nannie  went  into  the 
kitchen. 

"You  can  put  the  dinner  on,  Grace,"  she  instructed. 

"Do  I  have  to  go,  Mrs.  Merwent?"  asked  Grace  in  a  low 
tone. 

"No,  Grace,  but  you  must  be  careful  not  to  offend  Mrs. 
Winter  again." 

"Oh,  thank  you,  Mrs.  Merwent." 

"Hurry  up,  Grace,  and  serve  the  soup.  Mr.  Winter  is  wait- 
ing for  his  dinner." 

"All  right,  Mrs.  Merwent.  Go  in  and  sit  down.  It  won't 
be  a  minute." 

Lucy  had  begun  to  grow  pale  and  silent,  speaking  only  when 
addressed,  or  when  necessary  orders  were  to  be  given  the  serv- 
ant. Late  one  afternoon  she  entered  the  kitchen  to  inspect 
preparations  for  dinner. 

"You  can  put  this  cauliflower  in  the  ice  chest  when  it  is 
done,"  she  directed,  "and  we'll  have  it  for  salad  with  French 
dressing." 

"Mrs.  Merwent  told  me  to  serve  it  hot  with  cream  dress- 
ing," answered  Grace. 

"I  don't  want  to  use  up  the  milk  for  cream  dressing,"  Lucy 
informed  her  sharply.  "There  won't  be  enough  for  Dimmie." 

"I  can  go  out  and  get  some  more,"  returned  Grace  stub- 
bornly. 

"It  isn't  necessary.  We're  getting  a  quart  of  milk  a  day 
extra  already.  You  fix  the  cauliflower  as  I  said." 

"Well,  what  about  what  Mrs.  Merwent  says?"  inquired 
Grace  impudently. 


BLIND    MICE  183 

"I  am  mistress  here.  You  do  as  I  say,  or  leave  the  house," 
ordered  Lucy  angrily. 

"I  dunno  as  I  have  to  do  either,"  sneered  Grace. 

Lucy  went  into  the  dining  room  and  returned  with  some 
money. 

"Here  are  your  wages.  Get  out  of  the  house,"  she  com- 
manded, a  curious  expression  in  her  eyes  that  impressed  Grace 
against  her  will. 

"Mrs.  Winter "  the  girl  began  to  parley. 

"Get  your  things  together  and  go,"  repeated  Lucy,  moving 
slowly  toward  her. 

Grace  backed  out  of  the  kitchen,  and,  turning,  ascended 
the  stairs,  sobbing.  She  was  followed  by  Lucy.  In  a  few 
minutes  the  two  came  through  the  upstairs  hall.  Grace  had 
her  hat  and  coat  on  and  carried  her  suit  case  in  her  hand. 
Nannie,  hearing  the  girl's  sobs,  opened  her  door  and  looked 
out. 

"Why,  Grace,  what  in  the  world  is  the  matter  ?"  she  queried. 
"Oh,  Mrs.  Merwent,  Mrs.  Winter  is  sending  me  away,"  cried 
the  girl. 

"Now,  Lucy,"  Nannie  began,  taking  hold  of  her  daughter's 
arm. 

Lucy  shook  off  Nannie's  hand  and  faced  her  threateningly. 

"Will  you  keep  out  of  this,  Mother?"  she  asked  with  a  sup- 
pressed vehemence  that  staggered  Nannie. 

"Come  now.  Go  at  once,"  Lucy  told  Grace,  who,  cowed 
as  she  was,  allowed  herself,  without  further  protest,  to  be 
bundled  down  the  stairs  and  through  the  front  door. 

Lucy  then  went  to  the  kitchen  to  complete  the  preparations 
for  dinner.  Mrs.  Merwent  came  after  her,  sad  and  injured. 

"  'Mother !'  "  Nannie  repeated,  echoing  Lucy's  intonation. 
"You'll  be  calling  me  Mrs.  Merwent  next!  Lucy,  you  are 
certainly  the  hardest  hearted " 

"Please !    Don't  talk  to  me,"  interrupted  Lucy. 

"But,  Lucy " 

"Don't  talk  to  me !"  ordered  Lucy,  her  voice  shrill. 

Nannie  retreated  to  her  bedroom. 

Soon  after  John  entered  the  house  whistling.  Meeting  no 
one  in  the  hall  and  living  room,  he  peered  into  the  kitchen. 


184  BLIND    MICE 

"Where's  Nannie?"  he  inquired  of  Lucy. 

"I  don't  know,"  she  replied  shortly. 

"What  are  you  doing  in  the  kitchen?  Where's  your  girl?" 
he  persisted. 

"I  don't  know,"  reiterated  Lucy  in  the  same  tone. 

Nannie,  who  had  heard  John's  voice,  hurried  down  the 
stairs  and  came  into  the  kitchen. 

"Let  me  help  you  put  the  dinner  on,  Lucy,"  she  offered, 
after  smiling  at  John. 

"Please  leave  me  alone,"  answered  Lucy  in  the  same  hostile 
enigmatic  manner. 

"Whew !"  ejaculated  John.  "Let  me  get  out  of  this !  Come 
on,  Nannie !"  And  the  two  went  into  the  living  room. 

When  Lucy  had  placed  the  dinner  on  the  table,  she  returned 
to  her  bedroom.  The  meal  had  not  been  announced  and  it  was 
not  until  Dimmie,  entering  the  living  room,  wanted  to  know 
why  Papa  and  Nannie  did  not  come  to  dinner,  that  Nannie 
followed  the  child  back  to  the  dining  room  and  discovered  the 
cooling  dishes. 

"Why,  John,  dinner  is  on  the  table  and  getting  cold!"  she 
called.  "There  is  cream  pea  soup,  too.  It's  so  good  when  it's 
hot  and  now  it's  all  spoiled,"  she  added  disappointedly. 

"Well,  let's  eat,"  said  John,  appearing  in  the  doorway. 

"I  wonder  whether  Lucy  is  coming  or  whether  she  is  not," 
he  remarked  when  they  were  seated. 

"I'll  go  and  see,"  offered  Mrs.  Merwent. 

"No.  If  she  wants  to  sulk,  let  her  sulk,"  John  declared. 
"I'm  getting  tired  of  this  kind  of  thing." 

Nannie  rose  and  went  to  the  kitchen. 

"Where's  Grace  ?"  John  asked  when  Mrs.  Merwent  reseated 
herself. 

"She's  gone."    Nannie's  air  was  mysterious. 

"Gone  where?" 

"Well,  John,  I  don't  want  to  say  anything " 

"Did  Lucy  send  her  away?" 

"Yes,  John." 

"What  for?" 

"I  don't  know,  John.    I  was  in  my  room  and  heard  the  girl 


BLIND   MICE  185 

crying,  and  when  I  came  out  Lucy  was  in  such  a  temper  I 
was  afraid  to  inquire  or  say  anything1." 

John  struck  the  table  with  his  fist. 

"I'm  not  going  to  stand  Lucy's  tantrums  much  longer !"  he 
cried.  His  lips  were  drawn  back  and  showed  the  edges  of  his 
teeth. 

Dimmie,  who  had  with  difficulty  climbed  from  his  mother's 
chair  into  his  own  highchair,  sat  there  unnoticed,  staring  at 
his  father,  his  eyes  very  wide  open  and  his  lips  parted. 

"Now,  John,"  Nannie  began  soothingly.  "I  know  you  have 
been  like  a  saint,  but  you  mustn't  get  discouraged.  I'm  going 
to  talk  to  Lucy  and  maybe  things  will  be  better." 

"You're  the  saint,  Nannie." 

"Well,  now  promise  me  that  for  my  sake  you  will  go  on  be- 
ing just  as  forbearing  as  you  have  been  so  far?  I  couldn't 
bear  to  have  anything  come  between  you  and  Lucy." 

"I  don't  enjoy  quarreling,  Nannie,  but  I'm  sick  of  coming 
home  every  night  and  finding  a  situation  like  this  all  fixed  up 
for  me." 

"I  know  it,  poor  fellow,  but  you  just  must  promise  me  that 
you  will  be  patient  till  I  can  bring  Lucy  to  see  what  she  is  do- 
ing." Then,  after  a  moment,  she  continued.  "I  got  another 
letter  from  Professor  Walsh  today.  He  is  as  anxious  to  have 
me  back  as  ever,  but  I  can't  bear  to  think  of  leaving  you  and 
Lucy,  especially  when  you  need  me  so,  John,  dear." 

There  was  a  short  silence. 

"I  should  hope  not,"  John  said,  at  last,  stirring  his  soup 
viciously.  "You're  a  good  sort,  Nannie,"  he  finished,  not  look- 
ing at  her  as  he  spoke. 

"Thank  you,  dear  boy,"  cooed  Mrs.  Merwent.  "After  din- 
ner I'm  going  to  sing  all  your  favorite  songs.  Let  me  help 
you  to  a  little  more  meat,  won't  you  ?" 

"Thanks,  I  will."    John  passed  his  plate. 

"But  you  mustn't  call  me  good,"  she  objected  archly,  as  she 
put  the  meat  on  the  plate.  "You're  the  one  who's  good." 

"You're  an  angel,"  declared  John. 

"Ain't  I  goin'  to  have  any  dinner?"  asked  Dimmie. 


XXII 

The  Winter's  second  servant  was  a  stout  negress.  Nannie 
received  her  at  the  front  door. 

"Go  'round  to  the  back  door.  What  is  your  name?"  she 
greeted  the  newcomer. 

"Yes,  ma'am.  My  name's  Katy,  ma'am,"  replied  the  woman, 
bowing  several  times,  and  she  waddled  breathlessly  around 
the  house. 

Nannie,  passing  through  the  hall  and  dining  room,  met  her 
in  the  kitchen. 

"Now,  we  want  things  taken  care  of  without  any  nonsense, 
Katy.  I'm  from  the  South,  Katy,  and  I  know  how  things 
ought  to  be  done." 

"Yes,  ma'am,  Miss — Miss What's  yo'  name,  miss?" 

"I'm  Mrs.  Merwent." 

"I  mean,  what's  yo'  baby  name?" 

"My  name  is  Anna,  but  my  family  call  me  Nannie." 

"Nannie !  Dat's  sho'  a  fine  name,  an'  I'll  take  keer  o'  you, 
Miss  Nannie.  Don't  you  fret  any.  When  you  doan'  like 
things  you  jes*  scold  old  Katy,  an'  it'll  be  all  right." 

"Well,  you  can  begin  luncheon  now,  and  anything  you  can't 
find  you  can  ask  me  or  Mrs.  Winter.  That's  my  daughter." 

"What's  her  name,  Miss  Nannie?" 

"Her  name  is  Lucy." 

"Dat's  a  fine  name,  too.  All  right,  Miss  Nannie.  You  jes' 
run  away  an'  'muse  yo'se'f  an'  quit  studyin'  'bout  de  kitchen, 
an'  old  Katy '11  look  after  things.  Run  on  now.  I  doan'  want 
you  all  pesterin'  'round  when  I'se  busy." 

Nannie  went  upstairs  to  where  Lucy  was  sewing. 

"The  new  servant  has  come,"  she  announced.  "John  wrote 
that  she  is  just  from  Tennessee  and  has  never  worked  in  the 
North  before.  She'll  take  care  of  us  like  a  servant  ought  to. 
You  won't  need  to  worry  about  anything  now.  I  showed  her 
where  things  were  and  set  her  to  work." 

Lucy  continued  to  sew  without  replying. 

1 86 


BLIND    MICE  187 

"Northerners  don't  understand  negroes,"  went  on  Nannie. 
"If  you'll  leave  this  Katy  to  me  you'll  see  how  a  servant  ought 
to  be  handled.  There's  no  sense  in  having  to  worry  over 
every  detail  in  the  house.  That's  what*negroes  are  for." 

Yet  Lucy  did  not  speak. 

"What  in  the  world's  the  matter  with  you?  Can't  you  say 
anything  ?" 

Lucy  stared  at  her  mother  for  a  moment  in  a  disconcerting 
manner. 

"I  don't  see  what  there  is  to  say,  Mother,"  she  answered 
finally. 

"  'Mother !' "  repeated  Nannie.  "I  declare  I  don't  know 
what  has  gotten  into  you,  Lucy !  You  treat  me  like  a  perfect 
stranger.  Anyone  would  think  you  had  no  affection  whatever 
in  your  makeup  to  hear  you." 

Lucy  went  on  sewing  in  silence. 

"Lucy!"  exclaimed  Nannie  nervously.  "What's  the  matter 
with  you  ?  I  feel  like  I  wanted  to  shake  you.  Why  don't  you 
talk?" 

"I  don't  feel  like  talking,"  said  Lucy  quietly. 

"Now,  Lucy,  just  because  we  may  have  had  an  occasional 
little  tiff  or  two,  that's  no  reason  why  you  should  be  resentful 
and  act  like  this.  Such  trifles  are  not  worth  mentioning,  much 
less  brooding  over."  And  Mrs.  Merwent  went  to  Lucy's  chair 
and  bent  down  over  her. 

Lucy  rose  hastily  and  left  the  room. 

In  a  few  minutes  Nannie  found  her  in  the  living  room. 

"Lucy,"  Nannie  began,  "I  don't  think  you  ought  to  treat 
me  this  way.  When  I  make  all  the  first  advances  you  ought  at 
least  be  ready  to  make  up." 

"I'd  rather  not  talk  about  it,  Mother,"  insisted  Lucy. 

"There  you  go  again!  'Mother'!  Lucy,  if  you  want  us  to 
be  enemies  instead  of  friends,  why  don't  you  say  so  and  be 
done  with  it?" 

"Well,  aren't  we  enemies?"  Lucy  gazed  into  her  mother's 
eyes. 

"Lucy!"  Nannie's  eyes  filled  with  tears.  "What  in  the 
world  is  the  matter  ?  Are  you  crazy  ?" 

"I'm  not  sure,"  answered  Lucy  in  a  low  voice. 


BLIND   MICE 

"Come  on,  Lucy,"  pleaded  Nannie.  "Let's  be  friends  again. 
Kiss  me,"  and  she  moved  toward  Lucy. 

Lucy  rose  again. 

"Don't!"  she  ejaculated  excitedly.  "I  can't  stand  it!"  and 
she  put  out  her  hand  as  though  to  hold  her  mother  away. 

They  stood  staring  at  each  other. 

Lucy  made  a  motion  as  if  to  go. 

"Oh,  don't  bother  to  leave!"  snapped  Nannie  angrily.  "If 
my  presence  is  so  distasteful  to  you  /  will  go."  And  she  left 
the  room. 

When  John  came  home  Mrs.  Merwent  met  him  at  the  door 
and  there  was  a  short  conference  between  them  before  he  en- 
tered the  living  room  alone. 

"Lucy,"  he  began,  "what  in  creation  do  you  want  to  treat 
Nannie  this  way  for?" 

Lucy  eyed  him  without  stirring  or  answering. 

"She's  gone  upstairs  to  cry,  you  hurt  her  feelings  so.  You'll 
drive  her  into  marrying  that  Walsh  man  yet.  She  heard  from 
him  only  today,  she  says.  I  should  think  you'd  have  a  little 
pity  in  your  makeup." 

"John,"  said  Lucy,  at  last,  "you  don't  understand  or  you 
would  have  a  little  pity." 

"Understand  what?"  he  responded  irritably.  "What  has 
she  done?" 

"If  you  can't  see,  I  doubt  if  there's  any  use  telling  you." 
Lucy's  voice  was  that  of  one  suffering  physical  pain. 

"Well,  I'm  sure  /  don't  know  what  it  is,  and  she  says  she 
doesn't.  If  it's  a  little  fancied  slight,  or  some  such  thing, 
for  heaven's  sake  say  what  it  is,  and  don't  be  babyish." 

A  little  shiver  went  through  Lucy,  but  she  controlled  her- 
self and  her  voice  was  steady. 

"I  don't  think  I  am  babyish,  John,  and  I  don't  think  I  am 
merely  pouting  over  a  fancied  slight.  And  as  you  can't  see 
how  things  are,  and  have  asked  me,  I  will  tell  you." 

John's  eyes  swerved  a  little. 

"I  don't  say  mother  is  consciously  trying  to  come  between 
us,  John.  She  doesn't  think  things  through  sufficiently  for 
that.  But  unless  you  and  I  can  understand  each  other,  she 
will  ruin  our  home." 


BLIND    MICE  189 

"I  don't  know  what  you  are  driving  at,  Lucy.  Nannie  said  it 
began  with  some  trifling  misunderstanding  about  the  servant." 

"It  isn't  anything  in  particular.     Oh,  John,  can't  you  see?" 

"I  sure  can't.  I'm  blest  if  I  can  figure  out  any  reason  for  all 
this  tragic  stuff.  I  didn't  take  any  stock  at  first  in  what  Nan- 
nie said,  that  you  had  always  been  jealous  of  her,  ever  since 
you  grew  up,  but  I'll  swear  it  looks  a  little  like  it." 

Lucy  regarded  him  in  silence,  her  face  drawn. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it?  Are  you  going  to 
keep  on  like  this?  You  can't  put  your  mother  in  the  street. 
She's  got  no  place  to  go.  Your  cousin  has  written  her  prac- 
tically saying  right  out  that  she  doesn't  want  her." 

"No.  That's  true,"  Lucy  almost  moaned.  "She  has  no 
place  to  go!  Oh,  John,  what  has  changed  you  so?  If  we 
could  only  stand  together  in  this !" 

"Stand  together  in  what?"  John's  voice  and  manner  were 
increasingly  impatient.  "You're  the  one  who  has  changed. 
You  talk  and  act  as  if  Nannie  were  a  villainess  in  a  melo- 
drama, and  yet  you  can't  state  a  single  thing  she  has  done. 
I'm  getting  about  at  the  end  of  my  forbearance." 

"So  am  I,"  echoed  Lucy,  as  though  mentioning  an  unim- 
portant fact. 

"So  far  as  I  can  see,  Nannie  has  done  absolutely  nothing, 
and  you  are  the  one  to  blame  for  getting  things  into  this 
beautiful  mess."  John's  voice  was  like  that  of  a  judge,  cold 
and  impersonal. 

Tears  sprang  to  Lucy's  eyes. 

"Oh,  but  she  hew,  John.  I  am  not  to  blame.  Oh,  why  can't 
you  see  through  her!  Look  at  our  home.  Look  at  us.  See 
how  everything  is  changed.  Even  Jim  sees  it.  He  re- 
alizes  "  Lucy  bit  her  lip. 

"Yes,  that's  probably  the  great  trouble.  Jim  Sprague  is 
more  sympathetic  than  I  am !" 

"Oh,  don't,  John,"  pleaded  Lucy,  her  eyes  darkening. 

"Yes.  Nannie  has  been  unfortunate  enough  to  object  to 
your  showing  so  much  interest  in  him.  I  had  never  thought 
anything  about  it,  but  it  certainly  explains " 

Lucy  sprang  to  her  feet. 

"Be  careful  what  you  say,"  she  commanded. 


190  BLIND   MICE 

"Well,  be  careful  what  you  do,"  he  retorted  weakly,  his  eyes 
falling  before  hers. 

Lucy  left  him  standing  there. 

John  and  Nannie  again  sat  down  to  dinner  alone,  talking  in 
low  tones.  Dimmie  came  into  the  room  while  they  were  hav- 
ing soup  and  Nannie  lifted  her  brows  to  John  significantly. 

"Tell  the  new  servant  to  give  you  your  dinner  out  in  the 
kitchen.  Your  mother's  not  coming  down,"  John  told  the 
child. 

Dimmie  hesitated,  looking  very  much  disappointed. 

"Run  along.  That's  a  good  boy,  Jimmie,"  Nannie  urged, 
smiling  at  him. 

He  turned  on  his  heel  and  went  out.  A  few  minutes  later 
he  could  be  heard  ascending  the  stairs  to  his  mother's  room. 

"Do  you  know,  John,  dear,"  said  Nannie  after  the  child  had 
gone,  "that  I  sometimes  think  that  Lucy  is  getting  into  an  ab- 
normal state.  She  is  so  melancholy  and  sensitive." 

"It  certainly  begins  to  look  like  it,"  admitted  John. 

"If  that  is  true,  we  must  both  be  patient  with  her,"  added 
Nannie. 

John  did  not  reply. 

"That  is  one  reason  I  hate  so  terribly  to  think  of  leaving 
you,"  she  remarked  after  a  pause. 

"Leaving  us?"    John  glanced  up  quickly. 

"I— I  told  you  how  I  felt  about  Professor  Walsh's  letter." 
Nannie's  voice  was  unsteady  and  she  stared  at  her  plate. 

"Nannie !"  John  leaned  forward  earnestly  and  laid  his  hand 
on  hers  where  it  rested  on  the  table.  "I  want  you  to  cut  that 
nonsense  out !  Do  you  hear  me  ?" 

Nannie  lifted  her  eyes. 

"But,  John "  she  began. 

"Don't  you  ever  talk  of  leaving  us,"  he  interrupted.  "It's 
as  you  say.  Lucy  is  in  an  abnormal  state.  She  needs  you  to 
put  some  sanity  into  her.  This  is  your  home  for  as  long  as 
you  will — for  as  long  as  you  live "  John's  voice  broke. 

Nannie  smiled  uneasily.  The  two  gazed  at  one  another  in 
silence. 

"Thank  you,  dear  John,"  said  Nannie,  averting  her  face. 

John  withdrew  his  hand. 


BLIND    MICE  191 

There  was  another  long  pause. 

"Will  you  pass  me  the  spinach,  John,  dear,"  Nannie  re- 
quested in  a  tone  different  from  that  in  which  she  had  previ- 
ously spoken. 

On  the  succeeding  morning  Nannie  rose  early  to  eat  with 
John.  Lucy  dressed  Dimmie  for  kindergarten  and  sent  him 
downstairs  but  she  herself  did  not  appear  for  breakfast. 

John  had  hardly  reached  the  office  when  the  telephone  rang. 

"Miss  Storms  wants  to  speak  to  you,  John,"  said  Jim,  who 
had  answered  the  call. 

John  took  up  the  receiver. 

"Good  morning,  Miss  Storms." 

"Good  morning,  John.  How  did  you  leave  Lucy  this  morn- 
ing?" 

"Qh,  she's  all  right,"  he  responded  after  a  moment's  hesita- 
tion. 

"I  didn't  call  up  the  house  because  I  fancy  Mrs.  Merwent 
feels  I  am  a  sort  of  female  Machiavelli."  Miss  Storms 
laughed  slightly.  "I  want  to  ask  a  favor,  John.  I  am  all  tied 
up  with  engagements  and  can't  get  down  to  your  office.  Can 
you  come  in  for  a  few  minutes  this  afternoon?  I  want  to 
speak  with  you  about  something  very  important." 

John  thought  an  instant. 

"Yes,"  he  acceded. 

"Could  you  come  about  four  o'clock  ?" 

"All  right    Good-bye."    And  he  hung  up  the  receiver. 

Jim  was  silent  all  morning  and  seemed  to  be  pondering  some- 
thing. When  the  two  went  out  to  luncheon  together  he  un- 
burdened himself. 

"John,  don't  you  think  Lucy  is  looking  badly?"  he  demanded 
suddenly. 

"I  hadn't  noticed  it,"  John  answered  shortly. ' 

"She's  thinner  and  paler  and  looks  terribly  worried,"  Jim 
persisted. 

John  stared  at  his  plate  and  made  no  reply.  Jim  was  not  to 
be  discouraged. 

"See  here,  John.    You  and  I  have  been  pretty  close  together 


192  BLIND   MICE 

ever  since  we  were  small  kids — and  I  doubt  if  there's  anyone 
in  the  world  who  has  the  welfare  of  you  and  Lucy  more  at 
heart  than  I  have."  Jim  paused  before  resuming  his  unwonted 
loquacity. 

John  was  still  silent. 

"I've  got  something  on  my  mind,  John,  and  I  hope  you  won't 
be  offended  at  what  I  say?"  Jim  hesitated  questioningly.  "I 
know  you  are  in  a  hard  place,  and  it's  a  hard  thing  to  say, 
but  if  you  don't  do  something  radical,  Lucy's  mother  is  going 
to  play  hell  in  your  home."  Jim  stopped  and  showed  his  em- 
barrassment. "I  hope  you  don't  think  I'm  meddling.  I've 
thought  a  long  time  before  saying  anything,  and  I  expect  you've 
lost  more  sleep  over  it  than  I  have." 

"No,  I'm  not  offended,"  said  John,  flushing,  "but  I  don't 
think  you  understand  the  situation.  It's  evident  enough  that 
you  don't  like  her." 

"Don't  like  Lucy?"  Jim  almost  gasped.    "Since  when?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  doubt  that  you  like  Lucy,"  returned  John  coldly. 

Jim  set  down  his  stein  and  motioned  the  waiter  to  bring 
his  check. 

"I'm  going  down  the  street.  I'll  be  back  to  the  office  about 
three  o'clock,"  he  volunteered,  after  paying  the  cashier,  and 
he  went  off  in  a  direction  opposite  to  that  taken  by  John. 

John  rang  at  Miss  Storms'  apartment  at  four  o'clock. 

"Come  in,  John,"  she  invited,  opening  the  door. 

She  was  alone.    The  servant  was  not  to  be  seen. 

"I  was  just  going  to  make  some  tea  for  myself.  Sit  down." 
She  indicated  an  easy  chair. 

"I  don't  believe  I  care  for  any  tea,  thanks,"  John  said  a 
little  stiffly  when  she  was  ready  to  pour  it. 

"No?    Well,  you  smoke  then.    This  is  an  age  of  nerves." 

"I  think  I  will,  thank  you."    John  lighted  a  cigarette. 

"That's  right."  Miss  Storms  sipped  her  tea.  "I  hope  I 
didn't  interrupt  any  business  this  morning  when  I  called  you 
up.  I  saw  Lucy  day  before  yesterday,  and  she  frightened  me. 
I  never  saw  her  looking  so  worn  and  harassed.  She  said  she 
was  well,  but  I  couldn't  get  her  out  of  my  mind." 

"She  has  seemed  nervous  and "  John  paused  uncom- 
fortably. 


BLIND    MICE  193 

"Irritable?"  suggested  Miss  Storms,  smiling  kindly. 

"Yes,  irritable,"  admitted  John,  looking  at  his  cigarette. 

"Lucy  is  a  dear  girl,"  Miss  Storms  remarked. 

John  smoked  moodily. 

"I  was  thinking  yesterday  about  the  time  when  she  was 
here.  I  shall  always  remember  it  and  what  a  privilege  and 
pleasure  it  was  to  have  her.  I  did  so  miss  her  when  she  left 
me.  She  met  you  at  my  first  little  party  for  her,  didn't  she  ?" 

John  nodded  his  head. 

"And  then  the  day  you  were  married — she  looked  radiant. 
You  know  an  old  maid  loves  to  watch  things  she  can't  have." 
This  was  the  first  time  Miss  Storms  had  ever  spoken  intimately 
to  John. 

Without  replying  John  lit  another  cigarette. 

It  was  not  Miss  Storms's  way  to  be  devious. 

"I'm  not  asking  you  to  confide  in  me,  John,"  she  said,  look- 
ing at  him  directly,  "but  something  ought  to  be  done." 

"There  is  nothing  to  confide,  Miss  Storms,"  he  answered, 
still  distantly.  "Lucy  seems  to  have  gotten  a  case  of  nerves 
lately,  that's  all.  I  have  about  decided  to  have  a  doctor  look 
her  over.  I'm  sure  I'm  quite  as  interested  in  her  health  as 
you  are." 

"Of  course  you  are,  more  than  I  am,"  agreed  Miss  Storms 
heartily,  ignoring  his  tone,  "but,"  and  her  voice  became  grave, 
"I'm  afraid  you  are  the  doctor,  John." 

"I  know  you  are  fond  of  Lucy,  Miss  Storms,"  returned 
John,  nettled,  "and  I  appreciate  your  interest.  But  if  you 
think  I  am  responsible  for  her  state  of  mind  you  are  mis- 
taken." 

"If  I  had  thought  that  I  shouldn't  have  asked  you  to  come 
here,"  was  Miss  Storms's  reply.  "I  know  exactly  who  is  to 
blame.  And  I  realize  that  you  are  in  almost  as  difficult  a 
situation  as  Lucy.  I  have  known  a  great  deal  of  Mrs.  Mer- 
went  for  years." 

"From  others,"  put  in  John. 

Miss  Storms  looked  startled. 

"Yes,  from  others,"  she  admitted,  gazing  curiously  at  him, 
"but  certainly  enough  to  understand  some  things." 

"You  can  discount  most  of  what  you  hear  from  her 
enemies,"  said  John,  coloring. 


194.  BLIND    MICE 

"Men  are  stronger  on  justice  than  women."  Miss  Storm's 
smile  was  a  little  bitter.  "They  can  afford  it  better.  But 
listen  to  my  plan.  Mrs.  Merwent  is  fond  of  society  and — 
well,  admires  rich  people.  Now  I  have  some  friends  to  whom 
I  can  get  Miss  Powell  to  introduce  her,  and  they  will  invite 
her  to  their  country  place,  and  in  general  take  her  out  of  the 
way  for  a  part  of  the  summer  at  least.  You  and  Lucy 
can " 

"I  don't  see  any  need  at  all  for  any  such  thing,  Miss 
Storms.  You  entirely  misjudge  Mrs.  Merwent.  She  is  as 
anxious  about  Lucy  as " 

Miss  Storms  set  down  her  cup. 

"Have  you  seen  the  Art  Loan  Exhibition?"  she  inquired  in 
a  changed  manner.  "We  have  a  fine  showing  of  the  younger 
Spanish  schools,  loaned  from  Madrid." 

"No,"  said  John,  surprised. 

"Well,  you  must  take  Lucy  and  Mrs.  Merwent  to  see  it. 
It's  really  worth  while." 

"I  will,"  promised  John  perfunctorily,  rising  with  a  dazed 
air. 

"Must  you  go?  Well,  good-bye.  It  was  good  of  you  to 
come.  Give  my  love  to  Lucy,  and  remember  me  to  Jim 
Sprague.  I  haven't  seen  him  for  a  long  time." 

They  touched  hands  stiffly. 

When  John  had  gone,  Miss  Storms  went  into  her  bedroom 
and  shook  her  fist  at  her  reflection  in  the  pier  glass. 

John  walked  toward  the  office  with  his  head  bent  and  his 
eyes  fixed  on  the  ground,  a  puzzled,  abstracted  expression  on 
his  face.  He  did  not  see  Jim  who  came  out  of  the  office  build- 
ing as  he  reached  it.  Jim  passed  on  down  the  street  in  the 
direction  of  Layard's. 

It  had  begun  to  drizzle.  John  went  into  the  draughting 
room  and  closed  some  windows  which  had  been  left  open. 
Then  he  sat  down  in  front  of  his  desk  with  his  hat  on. 

Lucy's  picture  in  a  leather  easel  frame  confronted  him.  He 
took  it  up  and  studied  the  clear  eyes  and  beautiful  mouth. 
Resting  his  chin  on  his  hand  he  remained  so,  frowning  at  the 
wall. 


XXIII 

'John  left  the  office  earlier  than  usual  and  reached  home  be- 
fore anyone  expected  him.  Nannie  had  just  completed  her 
toilette,  however,  and  she  fluttered  into  the  hall  to  meet  him. 

"Are  you  tired,  John,  dear?"  she  asked  as  he  hung  up  his 
hat. 

"No,  I'm  not  tired,"  he  answered  without  glancing  at  her. 
"Where's  Lucy?" 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  know,"  she  replied  in  a  hurt  tone  of  voice. 
"I  suppose  she  is  in  her  own  room." 

John  ascended  the  stairs  without  further  conversation. 

Left  alone,  Nannie  examined  her  carefully  groomed  image 
in  the  hall  mirror,  and  saw  there  a  rather  nonplussed  face. 

John  entered  the  bedroom  and  found  Lucy  seated  in  a 
rocking  chair  crooning  to  Dimmie  who  was  in  her  lap.  The 
light  in  tfre  room  was  dim,  and  her  profile,  as  she  bent  over 
the  child,  was  silhouetted  against  the  glowing  square  of  a 
western  window. 

"How  do  you  feel,  Lucy  ?"  John  asked,  going  over  to  her  and 
hesitating  awkwardly  by  her  chair. 

"I'm  feeling  all  right.  Why?"  she  returned,  looking  up 
quickly. 

"Why — nothing.  That  is,  I've  been  thinking  that  you 
haven't  looked  very  well  of  late.  And  you  weren't  downstairs 
so  I  came  up  to  see  if  anything  was  the  matter." 

"Oh,  thank  you,  John!  I  thought  you— — "  Lucy  could 
say  no  more.  The  tears  began  to  roll  down  her  cheeks. 

"Thought  what?  You  little  goose!"  His  voice  shook 
slightly  but  it  had  something  of  its  old  time  tone  of  affectionate 
banter.  "You're  all  frazzled  out  nervously.  That's  what's  the 
matter  with  you.  I've  been  noticing  for  some  time  that  you 
didn't  look  well.  Come  on  down  to  dinner  and  quit  thinking 
about  imaginary  troubles." 

195 


196  BLIND   MICE 

Lucy's  eyes  were  grateful.    Her  lips  quivered  a  little. 

"All  right,"  she  answered,  smiling  with  tears  still  on  her 
lashes. 

"Come  on,  Son,"  invited  John,  lifting  Dimmie  to  his  shoul- 
der. And  the  three  descended  the  stairs. 

Mrs.  Merwent  was  sitting  in  the  shadowy  dining  room  with- 
out a  light.  John  opened  the  electric  switch. 

"Kin  I  put  de  dinnah  on?"  asked  Katy,  emerging  from  the 
kitchen. 

"Yes,  Katy.  I  think  everybody  is  ready  at  last,"  responded 
Nannie,  rising  from  her  chair  with  reproachful  dignity. 

"Gee,  but  I'm  hungry !"  exclaimed  John. 

"Me,  too !"  chimed  in  Dimmie. 

"How  about  you,  Lucy?"  laughed  John. 

"I  think  I  am,  too."  Lucy  smiled  rather  wanly. 

"Well,  let's  eat."  John  picked  up  his  napkin.  "The  soup 
smells  good." 

"It's  crawfish  bisque,"  Nannie  put  in  quickly.  "I  had  it 
made  especially  for  you." 

"Can't  the  rest  of  us  have  any?"  asked  Lucy  with  a  slight 
attempt  at  pleasantry. 

"I  didn't  mean  that,"  observed  Nannie  acidly.  "I  only 
meant  that  I  thought  of  John.  He  said  the  other  day  that  he 
had  never  eaten  any.  But  of  course  I  might  have  expected 
that  you  would  misunderstand  me." 

"Now,  Nannie,"  expostulated  John,  "that  was  only  an  inno- 
cent joke.  For  heaven's  sake  let's  not  have  another  quarrel ! 
I'd  like  a  little  peace." 

Mrs.  Merwent's  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"Well,  I'll  go  and — leave  you  in  peace,"  she  sniffed,  laying 
down  her  napkin  and  rising  from  the  table. 

"Well,  what  do  you  know  about  that!"  ejaculated  John  after 
Nannie  had  left  the  room.  "You  two  women  will  run  me 
crazy.  If  it's  not  one  it's  the  other." 

"John,  I'm  not  to  blame !"  Lucy  uttered  this  in  the  form  of 
a  statement  but  her  tone  was  tremulously  beseeching. 

"I'm  hanged  if  /  know  who's  to  blame!"  declared  John 
petulantly.  "All  I'm  certain  of  is  that  I've  got  about  all  I  can 
stand  of  it." 


BLIND   MICE  197 

Katy  rushed  breathlessly  into  the  room. 

"Miss  Lucy,"  she  wheezed,  "I  'spec's  Miss  Nannie  am  dret- 
ful  sick.  She  am  groanin'  an'  cryin'  pow'ful  bad." 

John  sprang  to  his  feet 

"I  wonder  what's  the  matter?"  he  exclaimed  questioningly. 
"Why  don't  you  go  and  see,  Lucy?"  he  added  accusingly. 

"She's  only  angry,  John,"  answered  Lucy,  watching  his 
face  with  anxiety. 

Nannie's  moans  could  be  heard. 

"People  don't  make  sounds  like  that  because  they  are 
angry,"  retorted  John.  "If  you're  not  going  upstairs,  I  am!" 

Lucy  rose. 

She  ascended  the  stairs  to  Nannie's  room.  John  followed 
her  almost  immediately,  but  remained  in  the  hall  outside  the 
door. 

"What  is  the  matter,  Mother?"  Lucy  inquired,  approaching 
the  bed  where  Nannie  lay  in  an  abandon  of  weeping,  her  face 
hidden  by  the  pillows. 

"Oh,  go  away!  Go  away!"  cried  Mrs.  Merwent,  breaking 
into  a  fresh  paroxysm  of  sobs. 

"Now,  Mother,  don't  act  this  way."  Lucy  spoke  as  to  a 
child.  "Tell  me  what  it  is  you're  crying  about." 

"Oh,  Lucy,  is  it — oh,  it  was  John — oh,  I  can't "  she 

moaned. 

"What  did  he  do?"  insisted  Lucy.  "If  you  mean  what  he 
said  at  dinner,  I  don't  see  anything  to  get  into  this  state 
over." 

"It  wasn't  that  alone.  It  was  when  he  came  home. 
O-oh "  and  Nannie  lamented  afresh. 

"Mother,"  ordered  Lucy  impatiently,  seizing  Mrs.  Merwent's 
shoulder  as  though  with  intent  to  shake  her,  "either  stop  cry- 
ing or  tell  what  you  are  crying  about.  You'll  drive  everybody 
crazy.  John  is  half  distracted  already,  and  nobody  can  do 
anything  for  you  while  you  act  like  this." 

Nannie  continued  to  weep,  but  less  violently. 

"Tell  us  what  it  is  so  we  can  do  something,  and  let  John 
go  down  and  eat  his  dinner." 

"Is  he  upstairs?"  inquired  Nannie,  glancing  at  the  door. 

"Yes,  of  course.    He's  standing  outside  in  the  hall." 


198  BLIND    MICE 

Nannie  redoubled  her  sobs  and  wails. 

"Well,  if  you  intend  to  keep  on  like  this,  I  am  going,"  threat- 
ened Lucy,  losing  her  temper. 

"Oh,  don't  go,  Lucy!     Please  don't  go!"  moaned  Nannie. 

"Well,  then,  stop  acting  as  though  you  were  dying,  and  say 
what  you're  crying  about." 

"Oh,  you  are  so  cruel,"  sighed  Nannie. 

"Very  well.    I'm  going."    Lucy  moved  toward  the  door. 

"Come  back!  Come — back — and  I — will  tell "  Nannie 

entreated  brokenly. 

"Well  ?"    Lucy  returned  to  the  bed. 

Nannie  seized  her  hand. 

"It  was  when — he — came  home.  I — went  to  meet — him — 
and  he — he  was  so  cold  and  cross  with  me !  I  have  just  written 
to  Professor  Walsh — and  told  him — I  couldn't  go — back  to 
Russellville  yet — and  now — John — makes  me  feel  like  I  ought 
— to  have  gone  right  away.  O-oh !"  and  a  fresh  fit  of  weeping 
began. 

"What  did  John  say?" 

"Why — why  he — he  hardly  answered  me — and — and — o-oh 
what  have  I  done?"  she  wailed  again  in  a  storm  of  sobbing. 

"I'm  sure  you  misunderstood  him,  Mother.  He  was  prob- 
ably worried  and  tired.  John  is  human  like  the  rest  of  us, 
and  you  are  foolish  to  make  a  mountain  out  of  a  mole  hill." 

"No,  I  didn't  misunderstand  him,  Lucy,"  persisted  Mrs. 
Merwent,  forgetting  to  cry.  "He  has  never  spoken  to  me  in 
that  way  before.  Something  has  happened  to  make  him  hate 
me." 

Lucy  smiled  in  spite  of  herself. 

"Well,  let's  not  have  any  more  tragic  scenes  over  it.  It's 
doubtless  something  very  simple,  and  I'll  speak  to  him  about 
it.  Come  on  down  and  finish  your  dinner." 

"Oh,  I  couldn't  see  him  like  this.  I  don't  care  for  any 
dinner."  Nannie  sat  up  in  bed  and  reached  for  the  hand  mirror 
which  lay  on  her  dressing  table. 

"I'll  send  you  up  some  then." 

"All  right.  You  can  tell  Katy  to  bring  me  up  a  little  some- 
thing. I'd  like  some  of  the  bisque  I  had  her  fix  for  John. 


BLIND    MICE  199 

He'll  feel  hurt  if  I  don't  taste  it,"  asserted  Nannie  apolo- 
getically. 

Lucy  made  a  motion  toward  the  door  but  Mrs.  Merwent 
held  her  hand. 

"Wait  a  minute.    Kiss  me,  Lucy.    I'm  so  lonely." 

Lucy  hesitated  almost  imperceptibly,  and  then  bent  down 
and  kissed  her  mother's  cheek. 

"Tell  Katy  she  can  send  up  the  saucer  of  blanc  mange  she 
saved  for  me  yesterday,"  Nannie  instructed  as  her  daughter 
reached  the  door. 

"What  was  the  matter?"  inquired  John  anxiously  as  he 
descended  the  stairs  behind  Lucy. 

"Why,  she  was  crying  because  she  thought  you  were  angry 
with  her  when  you  came  home,"  replied  Lucy. 

"Angry?    I  didn't  say  anything  to  her." 

"I  think  it  was  your  manner  as  much  as  what  you  said." 

"Well,  I  can't  be  eternally  thinking  of  my  every  word  and 
intonation  in  this  house.  I'll  lose  my  mind.  It's  first  on  one 
side,  and  then  on  the  other.  A  man  don't  know  how  to  talk 
or  act." 

"I  don't  think  you  can  quite  compare  us,  John.  I  haven't 
made  any  scenes  like  this." 

"No,  but  here  you  are  jumping  on  me  for  not  keeping  your 
mother  in  a  good  humor,  while  I  was  only  worried  about 
you.  You're  a  very  appreciative  person,  I  must  say!" 

"I'm  net  jumping  on  you,  John." 

"Well,  you  said  I  was  the  cause  of  all  this  to-do." 

"I  didn't  say  you  were  to  blame,  John." 

"Well,  my  good  intentions  weren't  very  successful,  if  that's 
so.  You  go  around  like  the  chief  mourner  at  a  funeral,  and 
then  when  I  make  any  attempt  to  help,  you  give  me  a  slap 
like  this." 

"You  certainly  don't  help  me  when  you  start  situations  like 
this  one."  Lucy's  voice  became  cutting.  "You  don't  have  to 
spend  all  day  with  her.  It  will  take  me  a  week  to  get  her  over 
the  fit  of  blues  she  has." 

"Yes !  That's  all  the  thanks  I  get  for  trying  to  show  con- 
sideration! Talk  about  being  misunderstood!  I  think  I'll 


200  BLIND    MICE 

keep  my  mouth  shut  after  this."  John  reseated  himself  at  the 
table,  and  began  to  eat  again  in  gloomy  silence. 

"John,  what  has  gotten  into  you?  You  are  so  changed  I 
hardly  know  you.  You  didn't  use  to  be  so  sensitive  and 
childish." 

"Thank  you,"  he  retorted  sarcastically. 

"Well,  you  are.  Since  Mother  came  you  have  gotten  to  be 
more  like  her  every  day.  I  think  /  am  the  one  who  has  a 
hard  time.  I  feel  sometimes  as  though  I  would  lose  my  mind." 

"That's  the  second  time  you  have  said  I  was  changed,"  he 
snapped.  "You  are  the  one  who  is  changed,  and  I  think  I 
can  guess  the  reason.  It's  not  your  mother  half  so  much  as 
it  is  someone  else." 

"What  do  you  mean  ?"  demanded  Lucy,  her  cheeks  paling. 

"Never  mind  what  I  mean.  I  don't  want  to  hear  you 
accuse  Nannie  of  anything  more.  If  you  are  so  warped  that 
you  think  she  has  destroyed  my  manhood  and  made  me  into 
a  baby,  the  less  we  have  to  say  to  each  other,  the  better.  She 
may  be  sensitive  but  she  at  least  appreciates  attempts  at  kind- 
ness, which  you  don't." 

"I  don't  want  to  talk  any  more,"  announced  Lucy  wearily, 
with  an  effort  at  self  control. 

"Neither  do  I.  I'm  going  down  town,"  he  declared  savagely. 
He  threw  down  his  napkin  and  went  into  the  hall.  Taking 
his  hat  from  the  stand,  he  left  the  house.  Lucy  heard  the  gate 
slam. 

She  took  Dimmie  up  to  bed. 

It  was  Saturday  night.  John  did  not  come  in  until  past 
midnight. 

Nannie  did  not  get  downstairs  even  for  the  usual  late 
Sunday  breakfast,  and  Katy  took  coffee,  toast,  eggs,  and  fruit 
to  the  bedroom.  When  the  invalid  finally  appeared  she  was 
wearing  an  elaborate  negligee.  She  clung  to  the  walls,  chairs, 
and  tables,  as  she  walked,  and  otherwise  exhibited  symptoms 
of  extreme  prostration. 

When  she  came  into  the  dining  room,  John,  who  was  seated 
by  the  table,  reading,  looked  up  with  an  air  of  constraint. 

Nannie  greeted  him  in  a  faint  voice. 


BLIND   MICE 

"Good  morning." 

"Good  morning,"  he  answered. 

After  a  second's  hesitation,  he  put  down  his  paper  and 
rose  and  went  toward  her. 

"You  look  pale,  Nannie,"  he  remarked  in  a  low  tone,  push- 
ing forward  an  armchair,  but  avoiding  her  glance  as  he  did  so. 

"I'm  all  right,  John.  It's  nothing,"  she  replied  in  the  same 
weak  voice.  "Thank  you  so  much,"  she  added,  sinking  into 
the  chair. 

"Let  me  get  you  a  little  port  wine,"  he  offered,  standing 
beside  her  and  watching  her  face  as  she  leaned  back  with  closed 
eyes. 

"Oh,  no,  John.  Don't  bother.  I'll  be  better  in  a  minute," 
she  protested,  smiling  bravely.  Then,  with  a  sigh,  she  reached 
into  the  bosom  of  her  gown  and  took  out  an  envelope.  "I 
want  you  to  mail  this  letter  for  me,"  she  continued,  with  an 
obvious  effort. 

John  took  the  letter  from  her  and  stared  at  the  address  un- 
comfortably. 

There  was  a  pause. 

"I  slept  so  badly  last  night,"  said  Nannie,  moving  her  head 
from  one  side  to  the  other  as  it  rested  against  the  chair. 

"Nannie  {"  John  blurted  out,  unconsciously  crushing  the  en- 
velope in  his  hand  as  he  spoke,  "I  didn't  mean  anything  last 
night.  I  didn't  intend  to  hurt  your  feelings  at  all.  I  was 
tired  and  worried,  that's  all." 

His  face  flushed  and  he  hesitated,  gazing  at  her  expectantly. 

She  did  not  answer  at  once,  but  when  she  opened  her  eyes 
she  was  smiling  faintly.  Reaching  out  her  hand  she  laid  it 
on  his.  He  gave  a  relieved  sigh. 

"I  know,  John,  dear!  Lucy  is  so  abnormal,"  she  breathed, 
tenderly  sympathetic,  lowering  her  voice  and  glancing  toward 
the  kitchen  as  she  spoke. 

"And  you  won't  talk  any  more  about  this  confounded  Pro- 
fessor Walsh  ?"  John  spread  out  the  envelope  and  looked  at  it. 

"I  must  write  to  him  and  acknowledge  the  check,"  Nannie 
protested,  accepting  the  letter  which  he  held  out. 

"But  you'll  tear  this  one  up  ?" 


202  BLIND    MICE 

Nannie  tore  the  paper  in  two  and  replaced  the  fragments  iri 
her  dress. 

"I  thought  you  didn't  want  me  here  any  longer,  John,"  she 
murmured,  averting  her  face. 

"And  that's  what  you  wrote  him?"  John  was  too  full  for 
further  utterance. 

"I  told  him  I  was  coming  back  soon,"  she  admitted. 

"Nannie !"  John  gasped  reproachfully. 

She  touched  his  hand  again.  He  caught  her  fingers  and 
clasped  them,  but  his  expression  was  still  hurt. 

"You  mustn't  be  angry  with  me,  John,  dear!"  she  begged, 
lifting  her  face  to  his. 

"I  can't  be  angry  with  you  very  long,  but  if  you  do  that 
again !" 

"I  won't,  John!     I — I "     With  an  effort  that  looked 

heroic  Nannie  tried  to  rise  but  sank  back  in  her  chair.    "I'm 
still  so   faint,"  she  apologised  almost  inaudibly: 

"Don't  move,  Nannie.     I'll  get  you  the  wine,"  and  John 
hurried  to  the  pantry,  returning  with  a  glass  and  a  bottle. 
"Take  a  good  stiff  drink,"  he  urged,  pouring  some  of  the  liquor 
into  the  tumbler  as  he  spoke. 
.     She  made  a  wry  face  as  she  sipped  it. 

"You  are  so  good,  John.    I  feel  better  now." 

"So  do  I,"  said  John. 

"While  Lucy  is  so  morbid  we  must  try  to  cooperate,  John." 
She  lowered  her  voice  again. 

"You're  right,  Nannie,"  he  agreed  with  conviction. 

When  Lucy  entered  the  room  a  few  moments  later  John  and 
Mrs.  Merwent  were  talking  as  though  there  had  never  been 
a  misunderstanding  between  them. 


XXIV 

On  Monday  morning  Nannie  was  descending  the  stairs  when 
the  telephone  on  the  landing  rang  and  she  stopped  to  an- 
swer it. 

"Is  this  Mrs.  Winter?"  a  voice  responded  to  her  "hello." 

"Who  is  this  speaking  ?"  interrupted  Nannie. 

"It's  Miss  Storms.    Is  that  you,  Lucy?" 

Nannie  hesitated  a  second. 

"No.  This  is  Mrs.  Merwent.  Mrs.  Winter  is  upstairs.  Is 
there  anything  I  could  tell  her?" 

"If  you  wouldn't  mind  asking  her  to  step  to  the  'phone  I 
should  be  so  obliged,"  said  Miss  Storms. 

"Oh,  very  well.  Wait  a  minute.  Hold  the  wire."  And 
Nannie  went  into  the  kitchen. 

"That  woman  wants  to  speak  to  you  on  the  'phone,"  she 
told  Lucy.  "It  must  be  something  very  private  as  she  in- 
sisted on  your  coming  to  the  'phone  yourself.  I  told  her  you 
were  busy." 

Lucy  turned  from  the  table  where  she  mixing  cake  batter. 

"Whom  do  you  mean  ?    Miss  Storms  ?"  she  asked. 

"Of  course.    Who  else !"  Nannie  replied  impatiently. 

Lucy  went  into  the  hall  and,  mounting  to  the  landing, 
picked  up  the  receiver. 

"Good  morning,  Miss  Storms,"  she  called. 

"I'm  sorry  to  bring  you  downstairs,  but  I  wanted  to  speak 
to  you  personally,  Lucy,"  began  Miss  Storms. 

"Why,  I  wasn't  upstairs,"  Lucy  explained. 

'"Well "  and  Miss  Storms  paused,  "anyway  I've  some 

news  for  you.  Your  father  is  here,  and  his  wife.  I  wondered 
if  you  would  like  to  see  them  here.  Can  you  come  and  have 
a  cup  of  tea  with  us  this  afternoon?" 

"Oh,  thank  you.  Of  course  I'll  come.  When  did  they  get 
in?" 

203 


204  BLIND    MICE 

"Last  night.    Well,  we'll  expect  you,  dear." 

"What  time?" 

"We'll  have  tea  about  four  o'clock,  but  you  come  as  early 
as  you  can  and  stay  as  long  as  you  can.  Good-bye  till  after- 
noon." 

"Good-bye,"  answered  Lucy,  "and  thank  you  so  much." 

Nannie  had  been  listening. 

"What  did  she  want?"  was  demanded  of  Lucy  as  soon  as 
she  hung  up  the  receiver. 

"She  wants  me  to  take  tea  with  her  this  afternoon." 

"Who  is  that  you  asked  when  they  arrived?  Some  friends 
of  hers  she  wants  you  to  meet?" 

"Yes,"  returned  Lucy,  not  knowing  what  else  to  say. 

"She  didn't  say  anything  about  me  ?"  pursued  Nannie. 

"No,"  responded  Lucy,  relieved. 

"Well,  she  doesn't  have  to  invite  me  if  she  doesn't  want  to. 
I'm  sure  I'm  not  dying  to  have  anything  to  do  with  either 
her  or  her  friends.  Of  course  it  makes  no  difference  to  you 
whether  your  mother  is  given  the  cold  shoulder  or  not.  You 
go  running  after  her  just  the  same.  Well,  I  don't  care.  It 
doesn't  make  any  difference  to  me.  She  needn't  think  I  give 
it  a  single  thought.  I  wouldn't  go  to  her  teas  if  she  begged  me 
to,  and  I  shouldn't  think  you  would  either  after  the  way  she's 
treated  me.  First,  she  puts  that  Mrs.  Low  up  to  making 
trouble  between  me  and  your  father,  and  then  she  tries  to 
ignore  me.  But  all  she  has  to  do  is  to  crook  her  finger,  and 
you  go  tagging  after  her.  I  should  think  you'd  have  more 
pride  about  you  than  that,  Lucy." 

"But,  Mother "  expostulated  Lucy. 

,  "Oh,  well,  don't  mind  me.  Go  on.  I'm  used  to  being  ig- 
nored and  humiliated.  I  can  forgive  and  forget,  but  little 
credit  do  I  get  for  it.  Anybody  is  better  than  I  am,  in  your 
eyes.  Go  on.  Go  to  your  tea.  I'll  find  someone  who  thinks 
I'm  worth  looking  at.  I  was  going  down  town  with  Miss 
Powell  this  afternoon  anyway."  And  Nannie  sat  down  to  her 
as  yet  untouched  breakfast. 

Lucy  had  just  returned  from  her  visit  and  was  removing 


BLIND    MICE  205 

her  hat  and  gloves  before  the  hall  mirror  when  John  entered. 
She  turned  to  face  him  and  greeted  him  expectantly. 

"Hello,"  he  answered  sulkily. 

"I've  been  to  Miss  Storms',"  Lucy  volunteered. 

"Oh,  I  know  all  about  your  Miss  Storms!"  John  told  her. 
"Where's  Nannie?"  He  glanced  about  inquiringly. 

"She's  upstairs."  Lucy's  tone  had  become  as  distant  as 
his  own. 

"I  don't  think  your  father  ought,  to  have  come  to  Chicago 
while  Nannie  was  here,"  he  began,  speaking  in  a  low  voice, 
but  with  some  heat. 

"What  do  you  mean,  John?  I  didn't  know  you  knew  they 
were  here." 

"Miss  Storms  brought  them  by  the  office  in  her  machine. 
She  said  she  had  just  driven  you  to  the  station.  I  don't  think 
you  ought  to  have  gone  under  the  circumstances."  His  speech 
became  louder. 

"Why?"  demanded  Lucy,  looking  at  him. 

"Out  of  consideration  for  Nannie,  of  course.'* 

"What  would  you  have  done?" 

"I  should  have  told  Miss  Storms." 

"Told  her  that  I  wouldn't  see  my  own  father?  I  couldn't 
do  that,  John.  He's  dearer  than  anyone  else  in  the  world, 
after  you  and  Dimmie,  and "  Lucy  paused. 

"More  so  than  your  own  mother,"  accused  John. 

A  noise  was  heard.  John  stepped  to  the  foot  of  the  stairs 
and  saw  Nannie  disappear  in  the  upper  hallway. 

"I  wonder  if  she  heard,"  he  mused,  frowning. 

Lucy's  face  grew  hard.  She  turned  and  mounted  the  stairs. 

"Dinner  is  ready,  Mother,"  she  called,  knocking  at  Mrs. 
Merwent's  door. 

There  was  no  answer.  Lucy  repeated  the  knock  several 
times,  always  with  the  same  result.  John  had  followed  her. 

"I'll  talk  to  Nannie,"  he  announced  pugnaciously. 

Lucy  turned  away. 

He  tapped  at  the  door.  "Don't  you  want  some  dinner  ?"  he 
called  in  a  voice  that  he  tried  to  make  careless. 

Mrs.  Merwent  did  not  reply,  but  he  could  hear  the  sound  of 
soft  sobbing  within.  He  tapped  again. 


206  BLIND    MICE 

"Please  try  to  eat  some  dinner,  Nannie,"  he  called  once  more 
pleadingly.  "You'll  make  yourself  sick." 

"No  thank  you,  dear  John.  I  couldn't  bear  it.  I  couldn't 
swallow  food.  I  o-oh,"  and  the  sobbing  was  redoubled. 

When  John  returned  to  the  dining  room  Lucy  was  at  the 
table.  He  seated  himself  in  silence. 

"She  won't  come,"  he  announced  gloomily  after  a  few  mo- 
ments. "Now  you  see  what  you've  done.  Nannie  is  heart- 
broken." 

"I  don't  see  that  I've  done  it,"  retorted  Lucy  quickly.  "I 
couldn't  help  their  coming  to  Chicago,  and  I  didn't  tell  her 
about  it." 

"Well,  if  you  had  refused  to  go,"  argued  John,  "and  told 
Miss  Storms  you  didn't  care  to  see  the  woman  your  father 
had  deserted  your  mother  for " 

"That  would  have  been  a  good  way  to  keep  it  from  Mamma, 
who  was  listening  to  every  word  I  said!"  Lucy  gazed  at 
John  defiantly. 

"At  any  rate,  if  you  had  refused  without  any  explanation 
Nannie  would  have  needed  to  know  nothing." 

"If  she  had  not  listened  to  what  wasn't  intended  for  her  ears 
she  would  have  needed  to  know  nothing." 

"How  could  she  help  hearing  when  we  were  talking  in  the 
hall?" 

Lucy  did  not  reply. 

"I  think  you  ought  to  take  your  stand,  Lucy,  without  vacil- 
lating." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  taking  my  stand,  John?" 

"Well,  you  are  either  on  Nannie's  side,  or  you  are  on  your 
father's  side.  You  can't  be  on  both." 

"I  don't  see  why  not.  That  is  just  the  stand  I've  taken.  I'm 
not  to  blame  for  the  divorce  and  I  have  a  right  to  see  my 
father  whenever  I  wish." 

"Not  after  the  way  he  has  treated  Nannie !"  John  answered 
hotly. 

"I  see  her  after  the  way  she  has  treated  him!"  Lucy  re- 
turned with  equal  heat. 

"Lucy,  do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  have  taken  your  father's 
side  against  Nannie  ?"  John  interrogated  incredulously. 


BLIND    MICE  207 

"I've  just  said  that  I've  taken  neither  side." 

"But  if  you  took  sides,  it  would  be  for  him,"  persisted 
John. 

"Yes,"  admitted  Lucy. 

Dimmie  came  in  through  the  kitchen  doorway  and  halted  by 
the  table.  Lucy  drew  her  to  him,  and  he  leaned  against  her 
chair.  John  took  no  notice  of  him. 

"Lucy,  I  am  surprised.  How  a  woman  can  turn  against  her 
own  mother " 

"What  about  her  own  father?"  Lucy  interrupted  angrily. 

"You  are  unjust,  cruel  and  ungrateful,"  continued  John, 
paying  no  attention  to  her  question. 

Lucy  was  white. 

"It  is  entirely  my  own  affair,"  she  said  coldly.  "Suppose 
we  don't  discuss  it  further." 

"It's  not  your  own  affair,"  contradicted  John,  "and  I  don't 
propose  to  see  you  insult  and  humiliate  your  mother  in  any 
such  way." 

"You  have  no  right  to  dictate  to  me  in  this  matter  or  any 
other."  Lucy  rose  from  the  table,  her  eyes  blazing. 

John  sprang  up  and  went  out  through  the  hall,  slamming 
the  front  door  after  him. 

"What  is  Papa  mad  about  ?"  Dimmie  asked  of  his  mother. 

Lucy  sat  down  again  and  buried  her  face  in  her  arms  on  the 
table. 

As  Lucy  had  not  taken  any  dinner  to  her  the  previous 
evening,  Mrs.  Merwent  appeared  at  the  breakfast  table  at  an 
unwonted  hour,  shortly  after  John's  departure  for  the  office. 
She  was  almost  without  rouge  and  wore  the  negligee  of  the 
previous  Sunday,  a  creation  of  grey  and  rose. 

"I'm  not  hungry,"  she  explained  as  she  seated  herself  and 
began  to  eat.  "Every  bite  I  take  chokes  me.  But  I  am  so 
empty  and  weak  that  I  must  take  some  nourishment  or  I'll 
be  sick" 

Lucy  sat  down  wearily,  saying  nothing. 

"I  never  saw  such  coarseness  before  in  my  whole  life,"  re- 
sumed Nannie.  "The  idea  of  that  woman  calling  you  up  to 
go  and  see  your  father  and  that  creature  while  I  was  actually 


208  BLIND    MICE 

in  your  house!  I  suppose  that  is  fine  feeling  here  in  the 
North." 

Katy  had  gone  to  market,  so  it  was  Lucy  who  went  into  the 
kitchen  when  Nannie  was  ready  for  hot  waffles. 

"I  suppose  you  saw  her,"  continued  Mrs.  Merwent,  when 
Lucy  returned. 

"Have  another  cup  of  coffee,  Mother." 

"I  think  I  had  better.  I  feel  faint  and  dizzy." 

Lucy  poured  the  coffee  and  pushed  the  bacon  and  eggs 
nearer  her  mother's  plate. 

"You  saw  her,  didn't  you?"  repeated  Nannie,  helping  her- 
self to  waffles  and  taking  more  bacon  and  eggs. 

"Saw  whom?"  asked  Lucy. 

"You  know  whom  I  mean,  Lucy.  There's  no  use  trying 
to  get  out  of  it." 

"I'm  not  trying  to  get  out  of  anything,  Mother.  I  saw 
Miss  Storms  and  Papa  and — Papa's  wife."  Lucy  hesitated 
a  little  over  the  last  two  words. 

"I  hope  she  dresses  better  than  she  used  to  in  Russellville," 
remarked  Nannie. 

Lucy  was  silent. 

"Did  she  say  anything  about  me?"  Nannie  took  another 
waffle. 

"No,  Mother.    No  one  mentioned  you." 

"I  see.  Nobody  even  thought  of  me.  Did  that  woman 
seem  very  fond  of  your  father?" 

"Who?  Miss  Storms?"  interrogated  Lucy,  in  a  lame  at- 
tempt at  pleasantry. 

"You  know  whom  I  mean,  Lucy.  It's  not  funny  to  me  if 
it  is  to  you." 

"Let's  not  discuss  Papa's  wife."  Lucy  showed  that  she 
anticipated  an  outburst. 

"Why  not  ?"  insisted  Nannie  virtuously. 

"Because "    Lucy  looked  out  the  window. 

"Because  what  ?"  demanded  her  mother. 

"Why,  don't  you  think  it's  in— well,  bad  taste,  Mother?" 

The  explosion  came. 

"You're  a  nice  one  to  try  to  teach  me  good  taste  and  pro- 
priety!" Nannie's  voice  was  suddenly  raised  to  its  highest 


BLIND   MICE  209 

pitch.  "I  may  be  divorced  but  I  was  never  talked  about  while 
I  was  living  with  your  father." 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean."  Lucy  regarded  her  mother 
steadily. 

"No,  of  course  you  don't !"  taunted  Nannie.  "Well,  other 
people  do.  A  married  woman  ought  to  be  satisfied  with  the 
friendship  of  her  husband." 

"If  you  are  referring  to  Jim  Sprague,"  Lucy's  tone  was 
menacing,  "my  friendship  for  him  or  anybody  else  is  none  of 
your  business." 

She  had  risen.  Her  breast  heaved  and  her  nostrils  widened 
as  she  gazed  at  her  mother. 

"Why,  Lucy !  How  can  you  fly  into  such  a  passion !"  Nan- 
nie was  frightened.  "I  didn't  say  there  was  anything  wrong 
about  it." 

"You  said  people  were  talking  about  us,"  accused  Lucy  in 
a  trembling  voice. 

"Why,  no,  I  didn't.  I  only  meant  that  I  was  afraid  people 
might  talk." 

"That  wasn't  what  you  said."  Lucy  was  very  pale  and 
continued  to  eye  her  mother  steadily. 

"You  -misunderstood  me,  Lucy.  You  are  always  misunder- 
standing me,"  protested  Mrs.  Merwent  soothingly.  "I  only 
consider  your  own  welfare,  and  at  the  least  thing  you  flare 
up  like  you  hated  me — over  the  merest  trifles.  I  think  I'm  the 
one  who  ought  to  get  angry."  Nannie  assumed  an  air  of 
injury. 

"Oh,  I'm  too  tired  to  talk  about  it,  Mother."  Lucy's  eyes 
filled  with  tears. 

"Yes,  'Mother' !    You  always  used  to  call  me  'Mamma'." 

Lucy  did  not  reply. 

"I  suppose  you  didn't  get  a  chance  to  talk  a  minute  alone 
with  your  father,"  resumed  Mrs.  Merwent,  as  if  nothing  had 
happened.  "Did  you  ?"  she  repeated  after  a  moment's  silence. 

"Yes." 

"Did  he  say  anything  about  me?"  Nannie  went  on. 

"I  told  you  once,  Mother,  that  nobody  said  anything  about 
you." 


210  BLIND    MICE 

"Well,  did  he  seem  conscience  stricken  and  ashamed  of  what 
he  had  done  ?" 

"No.    Please  let's  not  talk  about  it." 

"I  suppose  then  he  looked  happy?" 

Lucy  did  not  answer. 

"Of  course  he  did,"  concluded  Nannie,  "and  you  said  noth- 
ing at  all  about  it.  You  were  afraid  to  tell  him  what  you 
thought  of  his  crime.  You  are  a  nice  daughter " 

Lucy  went  into  the  kitchen. 

Nannie,  having  finished  her  meal,  rose  from  the  table  and 
followed. 

"Did  you  tell  him  what  we  think  of  his  cruel  and  con- 
temptible action?  I  suppose  that  creature  gloats  over  it. 
What  did  you  say  to  him,  Lucy?" 

Dimmie  bounded  into  the  room,  breathless  from  play. 

"Mother,"  Lucy's  manner  was  defensive,  "I  wish  you 
wouldn't  insist  on  knowing  what  it  is  better  not  to  discuss." 
Then,  turning  to  the  child  she  added,  "Get  your  hat,  Son.  It's 
time  for  you  to  go  to  Mrs.  Hamilton's.  The  wagon  will  be 
there  pretty  soon." 

"Then  you  did  not  take  my  part  at  all?"  continued  Mrs, 
Merwent  tenaciously. 

Again  Lucy  made  no  reply. 

"You  took  his  side,  and  the  side  of  that  odious  snake  in 
the  grass  who  tempted  him  away  from  us.  I  should  have 
thought  that  your  self  respect  would  have  kept  you  from 
making  friends  with  her,  even  if  your  mother's  suffering 
couldn't.  She's  no  better  than  a  common " 

"Mother !"    Lucy's  eyes  were  dangerous  once  more. 

"And  that  sneaking  Miss*  Storms  is  no  better.    I " 

"Stop!"  cried. Lucy  in  a  voice  of  command. 

Mrs.  Merwent  paused  involuntarily  and  shrank  back. 

"So  far  I  have  taken  nobody's  part  in  this  matter,  Mother, 
and  have  tried  to  blame*  nobody.  But  if  you  are  wise  you  will 
not  make  it  too  hard  for  me." 

"I  suppose  that  means  that  you  are  going  to  take  your 
father's  side,"  sneered  Nannie. 

"It  means  just  what  I  say,"  Lucy  was  growing  angrier  with 
every  word,  "but  I  will  not  listen  to  you  insult  my  father, 


BLIND   MICE 

or  Miss  Storms,  who  is  my  friend,  or  my  father's  wife " 

"Who  is  also  your  friend/'  supplied  Nannie  with  another 
sneer. 

"Yes,  she  is,"  declared  Lucy  defiantly.  "And  they  all  had 
the  decency  not  to  discuss  you  in  your  absence,"  she  finished 
bitterly. 

"And  I'm  not  decent !"  her  mother  almost  screamed,  throw- 
ing a  cup  she  held  in  her  hand  on  the  kitchen  table. 

The  cup  broke  into  a  dozen  pieces  and  Dimmie,  who  had 
been  listening  with  open  mouth,  began  to  cry  from  fright. 
Mrs.  Merwent  rushed  from  the  kitchen  upstairs. 

Lucy  took  Dimmie  to  Mrs.  Hamilton's  house.  The  carry- 
all arrived  as  they  were  approaching.  After  Stella  and  Dim- 
mie were  safely  ensconced  in  the  vehicle  Lucy  followed  Mrs. 
Hamilton  into  the  house. 

"You  look  all  tired  out,  Mrs.  Winter,"  Lucy's  neighbor 
observed  as  they  seated  themselves  in  the  neat  kitchen. 

The  tears  started  to  Lucy's  eyes. 

"I  just  felt  as  if  it  would  do  me  good  to  see  you,  Mrs. 
Hamilton,"  she  replied. 

"How  is  your  mother?"  Lucy's  hostess  inquired  pleasantly, 
a  few  moments  later.  "I'm  afraid  she  thinks  I'm  never  going 
to  get  over  to  see  her.  She  was  out  when  I  called  after  the 
tea,  and  I'm  just  so  busy  I  haven't  time  to  turn  around.  I 
wish  she'd  do  as  I  said  and  just  run  in  now  and  then." 

"She's  been  going  out  a  good  deal.  Is  little  Stella  over  her 
cold?  She  seems  quite  well  again."  Lucy  changed  the  sub- 
ject quickly,  looking  uncomfortable. 

Mrs.  Hamilton  had  risen  to  open  a  window  and  did  not 
hear. 

"Mrs.  Merwent  is  so  wonderfully  young  looking.  You 
ought  to  learn  her  secret,  whatever  it  is,  and  take  care  of  your 
nerves,  Mrs.  Winter."  Mrs.  Hamilton  smiled  sympathetically 
and  patted  Lucy's  arm  as  she  spoke. 

Lucy  bit  her  lip. 

The  telephone  in  the  Winter  home  rang  shortly  after  Lucy's 
departure  and  Nannie  came  downstairs  to  answer. 
A  voice  asked  for  Lucy. 


BLIND    MICE 

"Is  this  Miss  Storms?"  interrogated  Nannie. 

"Yes." 

"Well,  this  is  Mrs.  Merwent  If  you  wish  to  insult  me 
again  in  my  daughter's  house,  please  don't  do  it  over  me  tele- 
phone, Miss  Storms.  If  you  want  to  crow  over  your  cousin's 
success  in— — "  Miss  Storms  had  hung  up  the  receiver  with 
a  jerk.  Nannie,  after  listening  a  minute,  hung  up  her  receiver 
also. 

When  Lucy  returned  Nannie  met  her  in  the  hall.  She 
smiled  nervously  into  her  daughter's  unresponsive  eyes. 

"Where  have  you  been,  Lucy?"  she  began  in  a  conciliatory 
manner. 

"I  went  over  to  Mrs.  Hamilton's  for  a  few  minutes." 

"I  suppose  you  felt  you  needed  sympathy,  with  such  a  diffi- 
cult mother,"  said  Mrs.  Merwent  in  a  joking  tone. 

"No,  Mother,"  Lucy  answered  a  little  wearily.  "I  don't 
take  my  troubles  to  others." 

"Except  Mr.  Sprague!"  Nannie's  tone  became  quickly 
caustic. 

Lucy  met  her  mother's  eyes  coldly. 

"What  I  meant  was  that  I  do  not  tell  my  troubles  to  the 
neighbors." 

"I'm  much  obliged,  I'm  sure,"  retorted  Nannie  cuttingly. 

Lucy  moved  toward  the  stairs. 

"Lucy,"  Mrs.  Merwent  resumed  in  a  voice  which  showed  a 
desire  to  propitiate. 

Lucy  ascended  the  stairs  without  heeding  her. 

The  next  morning  being  Sunday,  breakfast  was  late  and 
Nannie  took  her  meal  with  the  rest  of  the  family.  She  asked 
John  for  the  woman's  page  of  the  morning  paper  and  soon 
became  engrossed  in  a  perusal  of  "Complexion  Hints." 

The  door  bell  rang.  Katy  answered  it  and  returned  with 
a  letter,  which  she  handed  to  Lucy,  who,  without  opening  it, 
laid  it  by  her  plate. 

"Who's  your  letter  from?"  questioned  Mrs.  Merwent,  look- 
ing up  from  her  paper. 

"It's  from — Miss  Storms."  Lucy  hesitated  as  she  glanced 
at  the  handwriting  on  the  envelope. 


BLIND   MICE  213 

Nannie's  expression  became  disturbed  and  she  watched  her 
daughter  silently. 

"Good  Sunday  atmosphere,"  remarked  John  sarcastically, 
not  raising  his  eyes  from  the  paper  he  was  reading.  "Cheer- 
ful as  a  funeral." 

Lucy  took  up  her  letter  and  opened  it. 

"Now,  Lucy,"  her  mother  began  uneasily,  her  voice  gentle, 
"Miss  Storms  will  probably  have  something  mean  to  say  about 
me  in  that  letter,  because  she  called  up  on  the  'phone  yester- 
day and  I  answered.  But  just  remember  that  you  haven't 
heard  my  side." 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me  she  rang  up?"  demanded  Lucy, 
with  the  open  letter  in  her  hand. 

"Why — I — she  didn't  leave  any  message,  and  I  forgot  it," 
explained  Nannie  with  embarrassment. 

"What  difference  does  it  make  anyway!"  put  in  John. 
"Miss  Storms  had  no  right  to  call  up  while  Nannie  was  here 
and  it  served  her  right." 

Lucy  read  the  letter. 

"What  does  she  say?"  inquired  Nannie,  trying  to  sound 
casual  but  not  succeeding. 

Lucy,  her  lips  compressed,  folded  up  the  letter  and  put  it 
in  the  envelope  before  she  answered. 

"Why  don't  you  tell?"  urged  John  impatiently.  "What's 
the  use  of  keeping  Nannie  in  hot  water  about  it?" 

"She  says  she's  sorry  for  what  happened,"  announced 
Lucy  quietly. 

"She  ought  to  be!"  declared  John.  "I  hope  you  gave  her 
a  piece  of  your  mind,  Nannie." 

"No.  I  only  said  that  I  didn't  think  she  ought  to  call  up 
here  under  the  circumstances,"  cooed  Nannie  softly. 

"Well,  I  think  you  were  too  forbearing,"  returned  John. 
"I'll  put  it  in  stronger  terms  when  I  see  her." 

"I  don't  think  either  you  or  Mother  have  any  right  to  treat 
my  friends  in  any  such  way!"  exclaimed  Lucy  feelingly. 

"Lucy  thinks  I've  already  robbed  her  of  Mr.  Sprague's 
friendship,"  insinuated  Nannie  in  the  same  silvery  tone,  "and 
now  I  suppose  I'm  to  blame  for  Miss  Storms  considering 
herself  injured." 


214  BLIND    MICE 

"In  the  first  place,  you  have  no  right  to  have  any  friends 
who  insult  your  mother,"  began  John  dictatorially. 

"I  have  no  obligation  to  defend  my  mother  when  she  insults 
my  friends,"  retorted  Lucy,  rising  from  the  table,  pale  with 
anger. 

"Nor  your  husband,  either,"  interposed  Mrs.  Merwent 
pointedly. 

"No!  Nor  my  husband  either!"  Lucy  exploded  stormily, 
looking  straight  at  John. 

"Lucy,  you  ought  to  think  about  what  you  say,"  warned 
Nannie  virtuously.  "A  woman  who  has  as  good  a  husband 
as  you  have  should " 

"It's  no  use,  Nannie,"  interrupted  John  gently,  laying  his 
hand  on  Nannie's  arm,  "but  thank  you,  all  the  same.  It's  a 
comfort  that  someone  still  thinks  I'm  not  a  brute." 

"John,"  Lucy  spoke  steadily,  controlling  herself  with  an 
effort,  "be  careful  what  you  do.  Consider  welt  before  you 
side  with  my  mother  against  me.  I  warn  you,  John — think 
before  you  do  this."  The  last  words  were  imploring. 

"She  is  warning  you  against  me,  John,"  commented  Mrs. 
Merwent,  smiling  bitterly. 

"Wherefore  all  this  tragedy,  Lucy?"  inquired  John,  return- 
ing to  his  sarcastic  manner.  "I  only  ask  you  to  be  just  to 
Nannie." 

Dimmie  looked  from  one  to  the  other,  his  lip  trembling. 
Lucy  burst  into  tears  and  left  the  room,  leading  him  by  the 
hand. 

"Now  what  do  you  know  about  that,  Nannie?"  John's  voice 
floated  out  to  Lucy  as  she  ascended  the  stairs. 

"Poor  John,"  Nannie  answered  softly. 

"If  it  wasn't  for  you,  I'd  go  crazy,"  he  declared. 

"I  know,  John,  dear." 

"Lucy  acts  as  if  her  mind  was  unbalanced,"  he  went  on. 

"Now  you  see  what  I  have  had  to  bear.  It's  the  Merwent 
characteristic  to  have  a  tendency  toward  melancholia.  Lucy's 
father — but  I  won't  talk  about  my  own  troubles." 

"You're  a  brick,  Nannie !"  John  cried  emotionally. 

During  most  of  the  day  Lucy  remained  in  her  room  reading 


BLIND    MICE  215 

and  talking  with  Dimmie.  Dinner  and  tea  were  silent  meals. 
That  night,  when  she  undressed  Dimmie,  she  put  him  in  her 
bed,  and  then  lay  down  beside  him.  In  about  an  hour  John 
knocked  at  the  locked  door.  Lucy  took  no  notice. 

"Where  is  the  money  I  gave  you  the  first  of  the  month?" 
he  called  from  the  hall. 

"It's  in  the  desk  drawer,"  Lucy  replied.  "Here  is  the 
key,"  and  she  tossed  it  through  the  open  transom  above  the 
door. 

In  a  few  minutes  Mrs.  Merwent  tapped  at  the  door. 

"Good  night,  Lucy.  We're  going  to  the  theatre,"  she  volun- 
teered. 

"Hurry  up,  Nannie.  We'll  be  late."  John's  voice  could  be 
heard  as  he  shouted  from  the  hall  beneath. 

"I'm  coming,  John,"  Nannie  responded,  not  waiting  for 
Lucy's  answer,  and  she  hastened  down  the  stairs. 

The  front  door  slammed  and  the  house  became  silent. 

When  she  and  John  returned,  Mrs.  Merwent  stopped  again 
before  her  daughter's  closed  door. 

"Good  night,  Lucy,"  she  called.     There  was  no  response. 

Soon  John  came  up  and,  finding  the  door  still  locked, 
rapped.  There  was  no  sound. 

"All  right.  Just  as  you  like,"  he  growled,  and  went  to  Jim's 
room  to  sleep. 


XXV 

John  and  Lucy  met  the  following  morning  without  speaking. 
Nannie,  who  had  been  treating  her  face  with  alternate  applicar 
tions  of  hot  water  and  ice,  came  down  late  as  usual.  She 
found  Lucy  in  a  white  linen  dress  and  wide  black  hat,  ready 
for  the  street,  while  Dimmie,  who  had  not  been  dispatched  to 
kindergarten,  wore  one  of  the  duck  suits  with  hand  em- 
broidered collars  that  were  generally  reserved  for  late  after- 
noons and  Sundays. 

"Why,  where  are  you  going,  Lucy?"  was  Nannie's  im- 
mediate question.  "Why  hasn't  Dimmie  gone  to  kinder- 
garten?" 

"I'm  going  down  town,"  Lucy  replied  distantly,  ignoring 
her  mother's  query  in  regard  to  the  child. 

"I  was  going  down  town,  too,  with  Miss  Powell,"  Mrs. 
Merwent  stated  genially.  "If  you'll  wait  till  I  can  get  ready, 
we  can  go  that  far  together." 

"I  haven't  time,"  returned  Lucy.  "Come,  Dimmie."  And 
she  went  out. 

When  Lucy  and  Dimmie  reached  home  it  was  late.  They 
found  John  and  Nannie  in  the  dining  room.  Nannie  was  ap- 
parently in  the  best  of  spirits. 

"We've  been  out,  too,"  she  announced,  her  voice  raised  to 
a  higher  pitch  than  usual  and  her  eyes  unnaturally  bright,  "and 
we  had  the  nicest  time.  Didn't  we,  John  ?" 

"Yes,  indeed,"  agreed  John,  giving  Lucy  a  resentful  look. 

"I  ran  across  John  going  over  to  Layard's,  or  whatever 
you  call  them,  and  took  him  for  a  half  holiday.  He  works 
too  hard  down  at  that  old  office  anyway."  Mrs.  Merwent 
showed  great  animation. 

Lucy  went  upstairs  to  remove  her  hat,  leaving  Dimmie  in 
the  dining  room. 

216 


BLIND   MICE  217 

"Where  did  you  and  Mamma  go,  Jimmie?"  Nannie  asked, 
as  soon  as  Lucy  was  out  of  hearing. 

"We  went  to  Miss  Stormses,  and  see  all  the  things  I've 
got !"  He  showed  several  packages. 

"Who  did  you  see?  Who  gave  them  to  you?"  Mrs.  Mec- 
went  inquired. 

"Oh,  we  saw  Miss  Storms,  and  she  give  me  this  necktie, 
and  my  new  grandpapa,  he  said  he'd  buy  me  a  watch  and 
chain.  He  said  I  could  wear  it  all  the  time,  and  it  ain't  going 
to  be  a  play  one  neither.  It'll  go  just  like  a  grown-up  one." 

"Who  else  did  you  see?"  persisted  his  interrogator. 

"Oh,  my  new  grandmamma,  too.  While  I  was  there  she 
didn't  give  me  nothing  but  cakes,  but  she  kissed  me  a  lot,  and 
there's  something  in  one  of  my  bundles  she  put  there,  she  told 
me.  She  says  I'm  like  my  grandpapa.  And  do  you 

know "  Dimmie  stopped  open  mouthed,  in  the  midst  of  his 

expansive  confidences,  and  stared  at  his  grandmother  who  had 
begun  to  sob  violently,  with  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes. 

"Come  away  from  there,  Dimmie,"  commanded  John. 

The  child  obeyed,  approaching  his  father  with  a  wondering 
gaze. 

"Now  you've  made  poor  Nannie  cry,"  John  looked  at 
Dimmie  sternly. 

The  child's  eyes  filled  and  his  lips  began  to  quiver. 

"I — I — d-didn't  m-make  her  c-cry!"  Dimmie  wailed,  his 
face  full  of  woe.  "I  d-didn't  hurt  her !" 

"Yes,  you  did  hurt  her,"  John  insisted  firmly. 

Dimmie  dissolved  into  a  rain  of  tears. 

"It  isn't  his  fault,  John — poor  child,"  interrupted  Nannie 
gently  through  her  own  tears.  Then  to  Dimmie,  "Come  here, 
darling.  Come  to  Nannie." 

Dimmie  held  back  suspiciously. 

"Go  to  Nannie,"  ordered  John  severely. 

"Wait,  John."  Mrs.  Merwent  had  wiped  her  eyes  and 
was  smiling  at  Dimmie.  There  was  an  unusual  tensity  in  her 
manner.  "Come  on,  Jimmie.  See!  I've  brought  you  some- 
thing, too,"  and  she  lifted  a  small  square  parcel  from  the  table 
and  held  it  out  to  him. 

Dimmie  approached  her  chair. 


218  BLIND   MICE 

"See.  It's  a  box  of  chocolates  your  papa  bought  for  Nan- 
nie, arid  I'm  going  to  give  it  to  you." 

Djmmie  held  out  his  hand. 

"Wait  a  minute,"  she  demurred. 

"What  do  you  say,  Dimmie?"  demanded  John. 

"Thank  you,"  Dimmie  whispered,  securing  the  prize. 

Mrs.  Merwent  put  her  arms  around  the  child. 

"So  you  love  Nannie,  Jimmie?"  she  whispered  back. 

He  did  not  reply  to  this,  but  stood  in  rapt  uncertainty  con- 
templating the  box  of  chocolates  he  held. 

"Come  on.  Let  me  untie  it  for  you.  Here,  sit  in  my  lap." 
She  lifted  him  up.  "There!  Aren't  they  nice?  You  can  eat 
one  if  you  want  to." 

Dimmie  placed  a  chocolate  in  his  mouth. 

"Now,  do  you  love  Nannie?"  she  whispered  again. 

"Yes,"  said  Dimmie. 

"Do  you  love  me  better  than  the  people  you  saw  today?" 
This,  too,  was  spoken  in  a  whisper. 

"Better  than  granpapa?"  he  inquired. 

"Yes." 

"And  Miss  Storms?" 

"Yes,  and  the  other  woman." 

"My  new  grandmamma?" 

"She's  not  your  grandmamma." 

Dimmie  replied  stoutly: 

"Grandpapa  said  she  was." 

"Well,  she  isn't.  Nannie  is  your  truly  grandmamma.  That 
woman  only  wants  to  be  your  grandmamma.  Your  papa's 
mamma  that  you've  never  seen  is  your  other  grandmamma. 
This  other  woman  at  Miss  Storms'  isn't  any  relation  to  you. 
A  little  boy  can't  have  three  grandmammas,  can  he?" 

Dimmie  considered  this  problem  gravely. 

"Stella  Hamilton's  only  got  two,"  he  admitted. 

"Yes.  One  is  Mrs.  Hamilton's  mother,  and  the  other  is 
Dr.  Hamilton's  mother.  I'm  your  mamma's  mother,  and  your 
papa  has  a  mother.  So  this  woman  at  Miss  Storms'  isn't 
your  grandmamma  at  all." 

"All  right.  I  don't  love  her  any  more,"  Dimmie  decided 
bravely.  "She  didn't  give  me  nothin*  but  cookies  anyway." 


BLIND   MICE  S19 

"And  you  love  Nannie,  don't  you?"  Her  words  were  in- 
audible to  John. 

"Yes,"  he  responded,  leaning  against  her  with  his  face  close 
to  hers. 

"As  well  as  you  do  Papa  and  Mamma  ?" 

"As  much  as  Papa,  but  Mamma  is  nicer,"  he  answered  ac- 
curately. 

"Don't  you  love  Nannie  as  much  as  you  do  Mamma?  I'll 
cry  then.  See  all  your  chocolates !  You've  only  eaten  one." 

Dimmie  took  another  chocolate. 

"Yes,  I  love  you  as  well  as  Mamma,"  he  confided  under 
his  breath. 

Nannie  kissed  him. 

"Now  go  and  play,"  she  suggested,  pushing  him  gently  away 
from  her,  "and  don't  get  chocolates  on  your  clean  suit,"  she 
added  warningly. 

Dimmie  went  in  search  of  his  mother.  In  a  few  moments 
he  returned  to  the  dining  room. 

"Mamma  says  she  don't  want  no  dinner,"  he  announced. 
"She's  got  a  headache." 

"Let's  not  wait  any  longer,"  urged  John. 

"You  can  serve  dinner,  Katy,"  Mrs.  Merwent  bade  the 
servant. 

"Yes,  Miss  Nannie.  It  won't  be  a  minute,"  declared  Katy, 
going  out  of  the  room  and  coming  back  with  the  soup  tureen 
which  she  placed  on  the  table. 

John  and  Nannie  seated  themselves,  and  Dimmie  climbed 
into  his  chair. 

"Go  upstairs  and  see  if  Mrs.  Winter  doesn't  want  a  little 
something  to  eat,  or  at  least  a  cup  of  tea,  Katy,"  directed 
Nannie. 

"No,  Miss  Nannie.  She  say  she  caint  eat  nothin'  Tall," 
Katy  reported  when  she  reappeared. 

"I'm  afraid  Lucy  has  another  of  her  nervous  spells,"  Nannie 
remarked  to  John.  "Those  people  at  Miss  Storms'  have  been 
filling  her  head  with  all  kinds  of  stuff  and  she  probably  thinks 
she  is  very  badly  used." 

"Nervous  spells !    A  fit  of  dumps,  you  mean,"  replied  John. 


*20  BLIND   MICE 

"She's  cryin',"  Dimmie  explained  impassively  between  large 
mouthfuls  of  potato. 

"I'll  swear  life  has  gotten  to  be  almost  unbearable  in  this 
house,"  continued  John,  frowning.  "Not  a  day  passes  with- 
out some  kind  of  a  stunt.  It's  either  funereal  gloom  or  hys- 
terics. It's  enough  to  drive  a  man  dippy." 

"I  know,  dear."     Mrs.  Merwent  smiled  sympathetically. 

"And  such  a  thing  as  consideration  for  me  never  enters  her 
head.  But  this  deliberate  disregarding  of  my  wishes  is  going 
to  be  the  last.  She  and  I  are  going  to  have  an  understanding 
once  for  all."  John's  expression  was  relentless. 

"Now,  John,  dear,"  remonstrated  Nannie  gently,  "you  must 
be  patient.  I  know  it's  hard,  but  you  know  how  abnormal 
Lucy  is  now.  And  I'm  afraid  it's  growing  on  her." 

Lucy  was  coming  down  the  stairs. 

When  she  reached  the  dining  room  John  and  Mrs.  Merwent, 
who  had  heard  her  approach,  both  rose  as  though  by  a  previ- 
ous agreement. 

"Lucy,"  John  began  in  a  tone  that  was  gravely  didactic, 
"notwithstanding  the  fact  that  your  mother  has  pled  with  you 
not  to  go  near  those  people  again,  to  say  nothing  of  your  hus- 
band's wishes  in  the  matter,  you  have  been  to  Miss  Storms'  to 
see  them  and  taken  my  child  with  you." 

Lucy  looked  from  John  to  her  mother.  Nannie's  eyelids 
were  red  but  her  eyes  were  hard  and  glittered  brightly.  Lucy's 
own  face  was  pale  and  she  bit  her  lip  to  control  its  involun- 
tary inclination  to  tremble.  John  returned  her  startled  glance 
with  a  gaze  that  might  have  greeted  a  stranger. 

"He  is  my  child,  too,  John,  and  his  grandfather  wished  to 
see  him  before  he  left,"  she  said  in  a  suppressed  voice. 

"Didn't  I  tell  you  not  to  go  again?"  he  asked  accusingly, 
taking  no  notice  of  her  statement.  His  voice  was  unsteady  and 
his  face  flushed. 

"You  have  no  right  to  order  me  to  do  or  not  to  do  anything, 
John." 

John's  flush  grew  deeper  and  duller.  Dimmie  had  slid  from 
his  chair  and  run  out  to  play. 

"I  won't  have  it!"  John  broke  out  violently,  seizing  a  chair 
and  setting  it  down  on  the  floor  with  a  bump. 


BLIND    MICE  , 

Lucy  regarded  him  steadfastly. 

"I  think  it's  time  you  thought  very  seriously  about  what  you 
are  doing,  Lucy,"  advised  Nannie  loftily. 

Lucy  continued  to  face  them  and  spoke  with  self  control, 
although  the  twitching  of  her  lip  was  apparent.  Her  eyes 
seemed  to  grow  wider  and  deeper  without  altering  their  ex- 
pression. 

"I  think  it  is  time  you  two  also  thought  very  seriously  about 
what  you  are  doing,"  she  began  slowly.  "It  seems  never  to 
have  occurred  to  either  of  you  that  there  is  anybody  else  to 
consider  except  my  mother.  But  I  will  tell  you,"  here  Lucy 
raised  her  voice  a  little,  "that  I  will  not  endure  this  kind  of 
treatment  from  you  two,  for  always.  I  have  struggled  and 
hoped  that  you,  John,  at  least,  might  come  to  your  senses  and 
see  what  all  this  is  leading  to,  but— 

"I  won't  hear  you  vilify  your  mother  any  longer,"  John 
interrupted  harshly.  "I'm  not  a  baby  being  led  around  by  the 
nose,  and  she's  not  an  adventuress  plotting  to  ruin  you.  If 
there  is  anything  about  your  present  situation  you  don't  like, 
you  can  blame  yourself  for  it.  You  have  sneered  at  her  and 
belittled  her  ever  since  she  came,  and  the  minute  you  get  a 
chance  you  go  and  tag  around  after  your  father  and  the 
woman  he  deserted  Nannie  for,  and  you  and  Miss  Storms  try 
to  wean  my  child  away  from  his  own  father  and  grandmother 
to  please  them.  You  have  taken  your  stand  with  them  and 
against  us,  and  if  you  think  we  are  going  to  sit  by  tamely  and 
submit  to  it  you  are  mightily  mistaken." 

John's  manner  had  grown  more  and  more  violent  during 
this  speech.  He  lifted  the  chair  he  held  and  struck  it  on  the 
floor  to  emphasize  each  phrase,  and  his  face  was  distorted  with 
passion. 

"You  must  admit,  Lucy,  that  this  quarrel  is  of  your  own 
making  and  not  our  fault,"  put  in  Nannie  again. 

Lucy  ignored  her. 

"John,  please  try  to  think  what  you  are  saying.  Oh,  John, 
please  think  of  me.  Think  of  Dimmie.  Don't  make  things 
impossible  for  us  all."  Lucy  was  pleading  and  her  voice 
shook.  She  clasped  and  unclasped  her  hands  nervously. 

"Impossible!"  repeated  John  bitterly.    "Things  are  already 


222  BLIND    MICE 

impossible. .  And  you've  made  them  impossible."  He  was  al- 
most shouting.  "I  tell  you  I  won't  have  you  ignoring  my 
wishes  and  making  a  fool  of  me  in  my  own  house." 

Lucy's  eyes  kindled. 

"And  I  tell  you  I  won't  have  you  shouting  at  me,  John 
Winter.  And  I  won't  have  you  treating  me  as  though  I  were 
a  servant  to  be  dictated  to.  If  you  have  no  decent  pride,  I 
have.  Dimmie  is  not  far  away,  and  Katy  is  in  the  kitchen." 

"Lucy,  Lucy "  interrupted  Nannie. 

Lucy  turned  on  her  with  vicious  suddenness. 

"And  you  will  please  attend  to  your  own  business,  Mother. 
If  it  includes  running  John's  affairs,  that  is  no  reason  for  its 
including  my  life.  When  I  want  your  advice  and  interference 
in  my  relations  with  my  husband  I'll  ask  you  for  them." 

Mrs.  Merwent  stopped  short  with  open  mouth.  \ 

"Why,  Lucy "  she  gasped. 

"Don't  speak  to  me,"  commanded  Lucy,  her  eyes  glowing. 

Nannie  crept  closer  to  John  and  took  hold  of  his  arm. 

"It  seems  to  me  you  ought  to  remember  the  servant  your- 
self, Lucy,"  she  protested  feebly. 

"You  shall  not  treat  your  mother  this  way!"  John  had 
raised  his  voice  until  it  could  be  heard  all  over  the  house. 

"No?"  Lucy  inquired  in  a  curious  tone. 

"No,  you  shall  not,"  he  repeated. 

"No  ?"  she  asked  again  in  the  same  peculiar  manner. 

"Lucy,  Lucy,  what  is  the  matter  with  you?"  cried  Nannie 
hastily.  "You  act  so  strangely !" 

"Do  I  ?"  asked  Lucy,  still  in  a  voice  so  unlike  her  usual  self. 

"Lucy!  You  frighten  me!  Don't  look  like  that!"  insisted 
Nannie  nervously.  "How  can  you  look  as  if  you  hated  me? 
Is  all  your  love  for  me  gone  out  of  your  heart?" 

Lucy  began  to  laugh  hysterically.  As  John  and  her  mother 
appeared  more  and  more  astounded,  she  laughed  louder  and 
louder. 

"Lucy!  Stop  that!"  ordered  John  sharply.  "I  don't  know 
you.  I  never  saw  you  act  like  this.  What's  the  matter  with 
you  ?"  He  shook  her  arm  as  he  spoke. 

She  only  laughed  the  more  wildly. 

"Lucy!"    John's  voice  was  uncertain  now.    "Lucy!     Stop, 


BLIND    MICE  223 

I  say.    What  on  earth  has  gotten  into  you  ?    Why,  you  act  as 
if  you  were  crazy." 

"Do  I  ?"  she  reiterated  with  the  same  weird  intonation. 

She  laughed  again,  her  voice  growing  shriller  and  shriller 
with  each  breath. 

Katy's  frightened  face  peered  through  a  crack  in  the  kitchen 
doorway,  but  no  one  observed  it.  John's  grip  on  Lucy's  arm 
tightened. 

"Stop  that  laughing,"  he  repeated,  but,  as  he  shook  her, 
this  time  more  roughly,  there  was  fear  in  his  tone  and  glance. 

Lucy  ceased  laughing  and  looked  at  him. 

"Oh,  John !"  she  exclaimed.  "What  is  it,  John?  What  have 
I  done?"  Then  she  hid  her  face  in  her  hands  and  sobbed. 

He  loosened  his  hold  on  her. 

Nannie  gave  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"Lucy,  you  should  control  yourself  and  not  give  way  like 
that,"  she  admonished. 

Lucy  uncovered  her  face  and  gazed  at  John.  The  tears 
were  streaming  down  her  cheeks. 

"Come  now,  Lucy,"  he  went  on  more  quietly,  "don't  act 
this  way  any  longer.  Any  one  would  think,  to  see  and  hear 
you,  that  you  had  been  terribly  abused." 

"You  have  hurt  me  so.  Oh,  John,  how  you  have  hurt  me." 
Lucy's  tears  continued  to  flow,  but  she  did  not  sob. 

"You  have  hurt  us,  too,  Lucy,"  said  Nannie. 

"I  depended  on  you  to  understand,  John,"  Lucy  pursued, 
without  noticing  her  mother,  "and  you  were  the  first  to  fail 
me.  Others  have  been  better  to  me  than  you  have — been  more 
true " 

"Lucy!"  Mrs.  Merwent  interrupted  sharply,  "I  should  think 
you  could  do  better  than  to  bring  Mr.  Sprague  in  at  a  time 
like  this!" 

"Yes,"  echoed  John,  flushing  again.  "If  he  has  been  more 
sympathetic  than  your  husband,  you  might  at  least  keep  from 
throwing  it  up  to  me." 

"I  wasn't  even  thinking "    Lucy  began  in  a  dull  voice. 

Then,  suddenly,  her  eyes  glittered  angrily.  "You  two  evil 
minded  beings !"  she  almost  screamed.  "Do  and  say  what  you 
like,  I  despise  you!" 


BLIND   MICE 

"Lucy,  I  warn  you "  articulated  Mrs.  Merwent. 

"Don't  speak  to  me!  I'm  ashamed  that  you  are  my 
mother." 

Nannie  cowered  at  the  whip-like  words.  John  moved  to- 
ward Lucy  once  more,  but  she  retreated  before  him  defen- 
sively. 

"Don't  touch  me!  Don't  come  near  me!  Oh,  how  I  hate 
myself  that  I  ever  thought  you  worthy  to  be  the  father  of 
my  child !  Why  did  you  ever  seek  me  in  the  first  place?  Why 
did  you  ?  Why  did  you  ?  Oh — oh — why  did  you  ?" 

"John,"  said  Nannie,  as  Lucy  paused  for  breath,  "I  think 
we'd  better " 

"Yes,  leave  me!"  Lucy  broke  in  shrilly.  "Leave  me!  Go 
away!  I  can't  look  at  you!  Get  away  from  me!"  She  was 
waving  her  hands  at  them  excitedly.  "Go!  Go  away!  Oh, 
you — go — go  now!  Go  at  once!  Go!"  Her  words  ended  in 
a  shriek. 

All  at  once  she  drew  her  breath  in  painfully  and,  before 
John  could  catch  her,  fell  forward  in  a  heap  by  the  table.  She 
lay  there  still  and  white. 

Nannie  knelt  beside  her  calling  her  name  and  chafing  her 
hands.  Dimmie  had  run  in  and  was  crying  at  the  top  of  his 
lungs.  Katy  stood  in  the  kitchen  doorway  with  mouth  and 
eyes  wide  open. 

"For  heaven's  sake,  be  still!"  John  snapped  at  the  child. 
"Come  on,  Katy.  Let's  get  Mrs.  Winter  on  to  the  sofa.  She's 
been  taken  sick." 

"Yes,  sah,"  gasped  Katy.  "Suttenly,  sah."  And  they  lifted 
Lucy  from  the  floor. 

"Keep  still,"  John  commanded  again,  shaking  Dimmie 
violently. 

The  child  obeyed,  still  whimpering. 

"Get  me  a  wet  towel  to  bathe  her  forehead,  Katy,"  directed 
John.  The  negress  did  as  she  was  told. 

"Go  upstairs  and  get  some  smelling  salts,  Nannie,"  he 
ordered  Mrs.  Merwent,  and  when  she  returned  with  the 
bottle,  he  added,  "Let  her  smell  of  them,  and  sit  by  her  till  I 
get  back.  I'm  going  to  bring  Dr.  Hamilton.  It'll  be  quicker 


BLIND   MICE  225 

than  telephoning."  Almost  before  finishing  his  speech  he  had 
his  hat  on  and  was  gone. 

"Poor  Lucy!  Poor  girl!"  Mrs.  Merwent  ejaculated  time 
after  time,  as  Lucy  lay  with  closed  eyes.  "I  told  John  he 
was  too  hasty.  Oh,  my  poor  child!"  And  she  continued  to 
pat  the  pillows,  rub  Lucy's  hands  and  forehead,  and  apply 
the  smelling  salts  with  nervous  and  jerky  movements. 

Scarcely  five  minutes  had  elapsed  when  John  reentered  fol- 
lowed by  Dr.  Hamilton,  who  dropped  his  hat  on  the  table, 
swung  his  medicine  case  beside  it,  pushed  Mrs.  Merwent 
gently  out  of  his  way,  and  seated  himself  by  the  sofa  without 
a  word. 

John,  Nannie,  and  Katy  stood  watching  him  anxiously  while 
he  felt  Lucy's  pulse,  observed  her  breathing,  and  lifted  her 
eyelids,  staring  carefully  at  her  pupils.  Then  he  deftly  pre- 
pared a  hypodermic  and  injected  its  contents  beneath  the  skin 
of  her  arm. 

"Mrs.  Winter  has  had  a  bad  nervous  shock,"  he  informed 
the  group  about  him  at  length.  As  he  talked  he  was  still 
watching  Lucy  intently.  "Her  heart  is  none  too  strong.  How- 
ever I  think  that  strychnine  will  pick  her  up  in  a  minute." 

Soon  Lucy's  eyelids  fluttered,  and  then  opened. 

"Where  am  I?  What  is  the  matter?"  she  asked,  staring 
about  her  wildly,  and  attempting  to  raise  herself  on  her  elbow. 

"You  were  taken  ill,  Mrs.  Winter,"  replied  Dr.  Hamilton 
in  a  reassuring  manner,  gently  forcing  her  back  on  the  pillow. 
"You  just  lie  quiet  for  a  few  minutes  and  you  will  be  all 
right." 

Lucy  obeyed  and  closed  her  eyes  once  more.  When  she 
opened  them  again  her  face  had  regained  a  little  of  its  color. 

"Come  on,  Mr.  Winter,"  suggested  the  doctor.  "We'll 
carry  her  upstairs  now  so  she  can  be  put  to  bed.  That's  the 
place  for  her." 

"Can't  I  walk  ?"  Lucy  asked  in  faint  protest. 

"No.    We  had  better  carry  you." 

Lucy  made  no  further  objection.  When  she  was  in  her 
room,  Dr.  Hamilton  turned  from  her  and  spoke  to  Nannie 
who  followed  close  behind. 

"You  had  best  get  her  undressed  and  quiet  at  once,  Mrs. 


226  BLIND   MICE 

Merwent,"  he  said,  "and  when  that's  done,  leave  her,  and  on 
no  account  disturb  her." 

To  John  in  the  hall  at  the  moment  of  departure  he  added, 
"Keep  her  perfectly  quiet.  On  no  pretext  allow  her  to  become 
excited,  and  if  anything  you  don't  understand  comes  up,  call 
me  at  once.  I'll  look  in  again  in  the  morning." 

Nannie  arranged  a  lounge  in  Lucy's  room  and  slept  near 
her,  getting  up  a  dozen  times  to  ask,  "Do  you  want  any- 
thing, dear?" 

Lucy,  generally  awakened  by  these  queries,  always  an- 
swered, "No,  thank  you." 

After  midnight,  however,  Mrs.  Merwent  slept  soundly,  and 
Lucy  attended  to  her  own  needs. 


XXVI 

It  was  late  the  next  morning  when  Nannie  awoke,  and  Lucy 
had  already  combed  her  own  hair  and  arranged  herself  for 
the  day.  Dr.  Hamilton  came  in  before  Mrs.  Merwent  was 
dressed  and  there  was  a  scurrying  when  she  ran  to  her  own 
room  as  she  heard  him  on  the  stairs. 

"You  will  be  all  right,  now,  Mrs.  Winter,"  he  announced, 
after  listening  to  her  heart.  "I  advise  you,  however,  to  spend 
a  few  days  in  bed  so  as  to  insure  against  a  repetition  of  this 
business.  I  won't  come  any  more  unless  you  need  me."  He 
turned  to  John,  who  stood  by  the  bed.  "You  use  your  marital 
authority  and  make  her  keep  still,  Mr.  Winter." 

"All  right,  Doctor,"  promised  John. 

When  John  was  ready  to  leave  for  the  office  he  came  in,  hat 
in  hand,  and  stood  by  Lucy's  bed. 

"Good-bye,  Lucy.     I'm  going  down  town." 

"Good-bye,"  she  answered  listlessly. 

After  looking  at  her  a  moment,  he  went  out.  He  reached 
the  office  later  than  usual. 

"Anything  wrong?"  inquired  Jim,  looking  up  from  his  desk 
as  John  entered. 

"Lucy's  not  very  well."  John  hung  up  his  coat  and  stood 
by  his  desk,  fitting  a  pen  into  a  holder. 

Jim  watched  his  face  with  growing  anxiety. 

"She's  not  seriously  sick,  is  she?"  Jim  tried  to  control  his 
voice  but  it  was  unsteady  in  spite  of  him. 

"I  don't  know,"  John  answered,  his  eyes  on  what  he  was 
doing. 

Jim  said  no  more,  but  he  remained  a  long  time  eyeing  the 
plan  of  a  building  before  him,  his  pencil  idle  in  his  hand. 
After  a  time,  he  rose. 

"I'm  going  to  dictate  a  letter  to  Miss  Burns,"  he  remarked, 

227 


228  BLIND    MICE 

referring  to  the  public  stenographer  whose  office  was  only 
a  few  doors  down  the  hall. 

Jim  went  to  Miss  Burns'  room  but,  finding  her  occupied, 
paced  the  corridor  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  or  more.  When 
he  finally  went  back  to  John  his  manner  displayed  none  of 
the  agitation  which  had  been  apparent  while  he  was  alone. 

"I'm  going  out  to  Rosedene  with  you  to-night,  if  you  don't 
mind,  John.  I'm  worried  about  what  you  say  about  Lucy," 
he  announced  as  he  reseated  himself  and  began  to  work. 

John  hesitated  perceptibly  before  he  replied. 

"All  right,"  he  conceded  somewhat  ungraciously. 

At  one  o'clock  Katy  brought  up  Lucy's  luncheon.  During 
the  course  of  the  morning  Mrs.  Merwent  had  been  to  the 
bedroom  several  times  to  make  inquiries  regarding  her  daugh- 
ter's condition,  but  Lucy,  a  cloth  wet  with  eau  de  Cologne  on 
her  forehead,  her  eyes  closed  defensively,  had  made  barely 
audible  replies  to  her  mother's  interrogations.  Nannie,  on 
these  occasions,  patted  the  bed  clothes,  raised  and  lowered  the 
window  shades,  and  set  to  rights  Lucy's  bureau  and  wash- 
stand,  but,  finding  no  further  excuses  for  lingering,  was  finally 
obliged  to  leave  the  invalid  in  peace. 

When  Nannie  reentered  the  room  early  in  the  afternoon 
Lucy  started  to  rise. 

"Don't  get  up.  I  only  wanted  to  ask  you  a  question,"  began 
Nannie.  "Why,  Lucy,  you  have  been  crying  again." 

"I  still  have  a  very  bad  headache,"  interrupted  Lucy. 

"You  ought  to  control  yourself  and  not  give  way  to  this 
abnormal  melancholy."  Nannie's  tone  was  virtuous. 

Lucy  rose  and  stood  looking  at  her  mother. 

"It's  about  a  pudding,"  resumed  Nannie.  "I'm  making  it 
for  dinner — that  baked  lemon  custard  you  used  to  make  at 
home;  you  remember.  Do  you  use  one  dozen  eggs,  or  two?" 

"It  depends  on  how  much  custard  you  want  to  make,"  said 
Lucy. 

"Oh,  well — you  know  what  I  mean — enough  for  our  fam- 
ily." 

"I  should  use  five  eggs,"  Lucy  replied,  holding  one  hand  to 
her  drawn  forehead. 


BLIND    MICE  229 

"Wait  a  minute  till  I  put  it  down."  Mrs.  Merwent  wrote  on 
a  scrap  of  paper  which  she  had  brought  with  her. 

"And  how  many  lemons  ?" 

"Two." 

"And  two  cups  of  sugar?" 

"No,  three  fourths  of  a  cup." 

"Why  don't  you  call  me  by  my  name,  Lucy  ?  Anyone  would 
think  you  were  talking  to  one  of  the  tradesmen.  You're  so 
brusque  and  curt.  It  makes  me  feel  like  I  had  done  something 
terrible." 

"Is  that  all  ?"  demanded  Lucy. 

"Why,  yes — no — let's  see.    Two  cups  of  sugar?" 

"Three  fourths  of  a  cup,"  repeated  Lucy. 

"Wait  a  minute.  I  think  I'll  just  have  Katy  bring  the  things 
up  here,  so  you  can  show  me  how  to  do  it."  And  Nannie  ran 
down  stairs,  returning,  followed  by  the  old  negress  who  was 
panting  from  the  exertion  of  her  hasty  ascent  to  the  upper 
floor,  her  arms  laden  with  bowls  and  pans. 

Katy  went  back  to  the  kitchen  twice  to  bring  the  full  as- 
sortment of  ingredients  and  utensils. 

"Now,"  said  Nannie,  when  she  had  completed  the  mixing 
of  the  pudding  under  Lucy's  direction,  "I  hope  it'll  be  good. 
What  are  you  wrinkling  up  your  forehead  so  for,  Lucy  ?  Does 
your  head  still  ache  ?" 

"Yes,"  Lucy  answered. 

"Law's  sakes,  Miss  Nannie,  dere  wa'n't  no  sense  in  pesterin* 
Miss  Lucy  wid  dat  'ere  custard  at  all.  I  c'u'd  'a'  done  it 
mase'f.  I  done  made  'em  a  thousand  times."  Old  Katy 
glanced  anxiously  at  Lucy's  pale  face. 

"You  just  attend  to  what  you're  told,  Katy,  and  don't  give 
advice  when  you're  not  asked  for  it,"  Nannie  retorted  pet- 
tishly. 

"Yes,  Miss  Nannie.  Suttenly,  Miss  Nannie.  I  didn't  mean 
no  ha'm,"  Katy  apologized,  beginning  to  carry  the  dishes  and 
materials  back  to  the  kitchen. 

"Now  I  must  go  down  and  see  that  it  doesn't  burn,"  re- 
marked Mrs.  Merwent,  bustling  out  the  door.  "I  won't  be 
long,"  she  called  back  as  she  descended  the  stairs. 

Lucy  rubbed  her  head  again  with  eau  de  Cologne,  lay  down 


230  BLIND    MICE 

on  the  bed  and  placed  a  cloth  wet  with  cold  water  over  her 
eyes.  The  afternoon  was  dull  and  cloudy  and  it  soon  began 
to  rain.  Soothed  by  the  patter  of  drops  on  the  tiled  roof  of 
the  veranda  just  outside  her  window,  she  gradually  relaxed 
and  dozed  lightly,  but  her  peace  was  not  for  long.  In  a  short 
time  Nannie  appeared  again.  As  Lucy  heard  footsteps  in  the 
hall  she  removed  the  cloth  from  her  eyes. 

"Lucy,  I  wanted  to  ask  you  if  you  think  the  pudding  is 
ready  to  take  out."  Mrs.  Merwent's  manner  was  agitated. 

"How  long  has  it  been  in?"  inquired  Lucy. 

"Oh,  I  haven't  timed  it,  but  one  edge  is  getting  brown  al- 
ready." 

"Katy  will  know  when  it's  done."  Lucy  spoke  with  a 
visible  effort. 

"I'm  afraid  to  trust  her  judgment,"  Nannie  objected.  "I'm 
so  anxious  for  it  to  be  just  perfect." 

"I'll  go  and  see,"  said  Lucy,  rising. 

"Now  I  didn't  mean  for  you  to  go,"  protested  Mrs.  Mer- 
went.  "I  just  wanted  your  opinion,  that  was  all." 

Lucy  started  into  the  hall. 

"Lucy,  come  back,"  besought  Nannie,  following  her.  "You 
know  Dr.  Hamilton  ordered  that  you  should  be  perfectly  quiet. 
Don't  go,  Lucy."  They  were  at  the  head  of  the  stairs.  "Well, 
Lucy,  if  you  will  go,  remember  that  I  didn't  ask  you  to,  and 
did  all  I  could  to  keep  you  from  it." 

"Why,  where  is  it  ?"  she  inquired  agitatedly  as  Lucy  reached 
the  kitchen  and  opened  the  door  of  the  empty  oven. 

"I  done  tuk  it  out,  Miss  Nannie.  H'it's  in  de  pantry,"  ex- 
plained Katy. 

"What  did  you  mean  by  touching  my  pudding,  Katy  ?"  Nan- 
nie demanded. 

"Shucks !  H'it  'ud  'a  bin  all  spiled  if  I  hadn't,"  Katy  ex- 
postulated respectfully,  bringing  the  pudding  out  for  inspec- 
tion. 

"It's  just  right,"  decided  Lucy,  examining  it  carefully. 

"I'm  so  glad,"  announced  Nannie  with  a  sigh.  "I  should 
have  felt  awfully  if  it  hadn't  been  just  perfect." 

Lucy  turned  to  enter  the  dining  room. 


BLIND    MICE  231 

"Now,  Lucy,  you  must  go  right  back  to  bed,"  said  her 
mother.  "You  shouldn't  have  come  down  at  all." 

Lucy  went  through  the  dining  room  into  the  living  room 
without  replying. 

"Please  go  back  to  bed,"  pleaded  Nannie,  following  her. 

"No.     I'm  going  to  sit  up  a  while,"  answered  Lucy. 

"Well,  if  you're  sure  it  won't  hurt  you,  but  remember  I 
didn't  want  you  to.  Shall  we  eat  some  of  the  pudding  now  ?" 

"I  don't  care  for  any,  thank  you." 

"Just  taste  it.    I  can  hardly  wait  to  see  if  it's  good  or  not." 

"Why  don't  you  try  it  ?" 

"Oh,  I  wouldn't  eat  any  unless  you  did." 

Lucy  drummed  nervously  on  the  arms  of  the  chair  she 
sat  in. 

"Do  you  remember  how  we  used  to  send  out  and  get  oys- 
ters— —  ?"  Nannie  began  suddenly. 

Lucy  rose. 

"Lucy!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Merwent,  following  her  daughter 
who  was  leaving  the  room. 

In  the  hall  Lucy  put  on  her  raincoat  and  took  an  umbrella 
from  the  stand. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  asked  her  mother. 

"I'm  going  for  a  walk." 

"Wait  a  minute.  Don't  go !  Please  don't !"  But  Lucy  had 
passed  through  the  door. 

When  she  returned  from  her  outing  it  Was  nearly  sunset. 
The  rain  was  over  and  a  dim,  yellow-green  light  shone  on 
everything. 

Nannie  met  her  in  the  hall. 

"Now,  Lucy,"  Mrs.  Merwent's  voice  was  reproachful,  "you 
are  going  to  be  sick  for  all  this." 

"On  the  contrary,  I  feel  much  better."  Lucy's  appearance 
supported  her  assertion. 

"Well,  change  your  clothes  at  any  rate,"  Nannie  advised. 

"I  think  I  will  put  on  dry  shoes  and  stockings,"  agreed 

Lucy. 

1 

y 

It  was  almost  time  to  close  the  office,  on  the  same  evening", 


232  BLIND    MICE 

when  there  was  a  knock  at  the  outer  door  and  it  was  slightly 
opened. 

"Come  in,"  John  called.  He  was  alone,  Jim  having  left  him 
to  keep  an  engagement  with  the  firm  of  Layard's  in  the  next 
street. 

Miss  Storms  walked  into  the  room. 

"Well,  John,  I  see  you  are  alone,"  she  observed,  hesitating 
just  inside  the  door. 

"Good  evening,  Miss  Storms.  Won't  you  sit  down?"  he 
answered  distantly,  rising  and  making  a  motion  toward  the 
coat  which  he  had  removed  some  time  before. 

"Don't  bother  about  that  coat.  I  shan't  stay,"  she  inter- 
rupted, smiling  kindly. 

But  John  put  on  the  coat. 

"Ellen  and  Arthur  are  leaving  in  the  morning.  They  had 
hoped  Lucy  would  be  in  today — though  she  said  yesterday  that 
she  didn't  think  it  would  be  possible."  Miss  Storms  paused. 
"As  there  seems  to  be  no  way  for  them  to  communicate  with 

her "  she  paused  again  with  signficant  emphasis,  raising 

her  eyebrows  but  continuing  to  smile  in  the  same  manner,  "I 
have  brought  this  parcel  from  them.  It  is  for  Dimmie.  His 
grandfather  promised  him  a  watch." 

John  did  not  speak  at  once  and  the  two  stared  at  one 
another.  His  face  grew  red  and  sullen  under  the  enigmatic 
inquiry  of  her  expression. 

She  laid  the  parcel  on  the  desk.    Still  John  said  nothing. 

"If  it  is  possible  for  Lucy  to  get  in  in  the  morning " 

she  began  again. 

"Lucy  is    sick  in  bed,"  John  informed  her  shortly. 

"Oh !  I'm  sorry.  Poor  child !  What  is it  isn't  anything 

serious,  is  it?" 

"No.    Only  an  attack  of  nerves." 

Miss  Storms  continued  to  gaze  at  John,  and  he  partially 
averted  his  face,  fingering  some  papers  on  the  desk  beside 
him. 

"John,"  interrogated  Miss  Storms,  making  a  step  forward, 
"isn't  there  anything  to  be  done?" 

He  glanced  up  quickly  and  his  hand  on  the  paper  shook. 

"No,"  he  said,  looking  at  Miss  Storms  almost  defiantly,  "I 


BLIND    MICE 

don't  see  that  there  is.  Not  so  long  as  Mr.  Merwent  and — 
his  wife  insist  on  thrusting  their  attention  where  it's  not 
wanted." 

"Oh  ?"  Miss  Storms  lifted  her  eyebrows  again  and  bit  her 
lip.  She  continued  to  regard  John  with  an  expression  that 
was  a  mixture  of  rather  bitter  humor  and  bafflement. 

"Perhaps  you'd  rather  not  deliver  my  message?" 

John  frowned  slightly. 

"I'll  deliver  it,  Miss  Storms.  I'm  not  the  one  to  settle 
Lucy's  attitude  toward  her  father." 

"Well,  I  certainly  hope  the  dear  child  is  stronger  than  she 
looks.  I'll  send  over  here  tomorrow  to  inquire  after  her." 
Miss  Storms  declared  with  insistent  good  humor.  "Good- 
bye." 

Smiling  rather  impersonally,  she  nodded  to  John  and  went 
out. 

John  walked  to  the  window  and  stood  staring  into  the  rain, 
and  he  did  not  hear  Jim  when  he  came  in  a  few  minutes 
later,  his  umbrella  dripping  and  his  shoulders  wet. 

When  Miss  Storms  reached  home  she  told  Merwent  and  his 
wife  of  her  visit. 

"Well,  I'm  sorry,"  Arthur  said  slowly,  shaking  his  head  as 
he  spoke.  "It  means  that  I  have  lost  my  daughter.  I  don't 
wonder  that  she's  sick,  poor  girl.  I  could  see  that  she  was 
nearly  frantic  yesterday.  I'll  write  to  her."  Then  his  voice 

grew  bitter.  "Of  all  the  fiends  in  human  form !"  Ellen 

laid  her  hand  on  his  arm.  He  was  silent. 

"I  don't  think  I'll  ever  call  myself  a  diplomat  again,"  an- 
nounced Miss  Storms  grimly. 

John  and  Jim  closed  the  office  and  walked  to  the  station  in 
silence.  Even  in  the  close  proximity  of  the  suburban  train 
they  exchanged  only  a  few  desultory  remarks. 

Lucy  had  hardly  put  on  her  dry  clothes  and  returned  down- 
stairs after  her  walk  when  John's  key  was  heard  in  the  front 
door. 

"Come  in,"  he  said  to  Jim. 

The  two  men  hung  their  rain  coats  on  the  hat  tree  and 


234  BLIND    MICE 

John  led  the  way  to  the  dining  room.  Lucy,  who  was  seated 
by  a  window,  rose  at  their  entrance. 

"Well,  Lucy,  I  concluded  I'd  turn  myself  into  a  surprise 
party.  I  told  John  not  to  'phone  out,"  Jim  declared.  "I 
thought  you  were  sick  a-bed." 

"No.  I'm  feeling  better  this  evening,"  she  replied  rather 
coldly,  shaking  hands. 

"Good  evening,  Mr.  Sprague.  What  a  nice  surprise  for 
Lucy !  I  hope  you  weren't  worried  about  her."  Nannie  came 
forward. 

"Good  evening,  Mrs.  Merwent,"  returned  Jim,  ignoring  her 
observations.  His  perplexed  gaze  followed  Lucy  as  he  looked 
over  her  mother's  head. 

''Where's  Dimmie?"  he  inquired  at  last. 

"He  has  gone  to  the  Hamiltons'.  He's  getting  to  be  quite 
a  runabout."  Nannie  proffered  the  information. 

"Kin  I  put  dinnah  on  right  away,  Miss  Nannie?"  asked 
Katy,  coming  to  the  door. 

"Wait  a  minute,  Katy,"  replied  Mrs.  Merwent.  "You  must 
put  an  extra  plate  on."  Then,  addressing  John  and  Jim, 
"Shall  I  mix  you  two  some  of  Mr.  Sprague's  near  cocktails 
before  you  eat?" 

"Not  for  me,  Mrs.  Merwent,  thank  you,"  Jim  refused  hastily. 

"Well,  let  me  make  one  for  you,  anyway,  John,"  she  urged. 

"All  right,  Nannie.    I  don't  mind  if  you  do." 

"Then,  come  into  the  kitchen  while  I  fix  it."  John  followed 
her. 

"I  invited  myself  out,"  Jim  remarked  to  Lucy,  when  they 
were  alone.  "I  was  worried  about  you.  And  John  told  me 
on  the  train  you  had  a  fainting  spell  and  the  doctor  had  to  be 
called  in." 

"It  wasn't  serious,"  Lucy  explained  impassively.  "I  was  a 
little  nervous  and  unstrung.  That's  all." 

"Well,  that's  enough,"  asserted  Jim  grimly. 

"It's  not  an  uncommon  female  failing,"  said  Lucy. 

Jim  regarded  her  so  long  without  speaking  that  she  flushed 
under  his  scrutiny. 

"There's  no  use  trying  to  deceive  me,  Lucy.  Your  looks 
tell  that  you've  been  through  something  serious." 


BLIND    MICE  235 

"There's  no  use  in  trying  anything,  Jim."  Her  tone  was 
new  to  him. 

"Lucy !"  he  exclaimed.    "You  know  that  I " 

John  and  Nannie  came  in  and  Jim  stopped  speaking. 

"You  can  serve  dinner  now,  Katy,"  Mrs.  Merwent  called 
as  she  left  the  kitchen. 

The  family  were  soon  seated  at  the  table. 

"You're  quite  a  stranger,  Mr.  Sprague,"  Nannie  began. 

"Yes,  Mrs.  Merwent,"  said  Jim  stiffly. 

"We  have  spoken  of  you  so  often.  Haven't  we,  Lucy?" 
Mrs.  Merwent  turned  to  her  daughter. 

Jim  interrupted  before  Lucy  could  reply. 

"Business  very  engrossing,  Mrs.  Merwent.  We  have  new 
competition.  A  lady  architect  has  rented  offices  in  the  same 
building  with  us." 

"You  must  mean  the  lady  architect  is  very  engrossing,  Mr. 
Sprague,"  smiled  Nannie.  "You  seem  to  have  quite  forgotten 
poor  Lucy  and  me — though  of  course  I  don't  count." 

"The  lady  architect  is  designing  small  houses  too  rapidly  to 
leave  either  herself  or  me  time  for  personal  interests,"  re- 
sponded Jim. 

"Well,  I  think  she  might  be  better  employed  than  in  trying 
to  compete  with  men  in  business,"  declared  Nannie  vigorously. 
"I  don't  believe  in  women  earning  their  own  living.  The 
woman's  place  is  in  the  home." 

"Why,  more  than  the  man's  ?"    Jim  questioned. 

John  answered  for  her. 

"Because  she's  not  fitted  by  nature  to  compete  with  men." 

"Our  new  competitor  has  gotten  four  contracts  this  month 
right  under  our  nose."  Jim  smiled  slightly. 

"That's  only  because  she's  a  sort  of  novelty.  It  won't  last." 
There  was  no  lightness  in  John's  manner. 

"Well,  according  to  Layard's  she's  been  at  it  for  six  years, 
and  made  enough  in  a  small  place  to  enable  her  to  break  into 
big-city  practice,  just  as  we  did." 

"A  woman  can't  attend  to  her  home  and  her  children  and 
be  in  business,"  persisted  John. 

"This  one's  got  neither,  being  unmarried,  and  there  are 
thousands  of  others  in  the  same  fix."  Jim  warmed  to  his 


286  BLIND   MICE 

subject.  "If  a  man  wants  money  and  success,  he's  free  to  get 
out  and  go  after  them,  and  I  fail  to  see  why  a  woman  hasn't 
the  same  right.  I  don't  see  why  she  lowers  herself  any  more 
than  by  living  on  charity." 

"Like  me  and  Lucy,"  put  in  Mrs.  Merwent  quickly. 

"I  don't  mean  every  woman,"  said  Jim.  "You  know  what 
I  mean,  Lucy.  You  and  I  have  discussed  it  a  dozen  times. 
What's  the  use  of  insisting  a  woman's  place  is  in  the  home 
whether  she  has  any  home  or  not,  or  whether  she  and  her 
children  have  enough  to  make  them  comfortable  or  not  ?" 

Lucy  did  not  answer. 

"Woman's  place  is  in  the  home  because  she  has  the  babies 
and  man  doesn't,"  John  asserted  again. 

"I  don't  see  that  she  has  them  any  more  than  the  man  does," 
retorted  Jim. 

"You  don't?  Well,  I  don't  think  you'd  find  many  women 
to  agree  with  you !"  John's  tone  was  finely  sarcastic. 

"Don't  you  think  that  woman's  influence  is  destroyed  when 
she  becomes  masculine,  Mr.  Sprague?"  parried  Nannie,  look- 
ing at  John. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  masculine?"  queried  Jim  sharply. 
"It  used  to  be  that  a  woman  had  to  turn  all  her  money  over 
to  her  husband  when  she  married.  Now  she  can  hold  on  to 
at  least  some  of  it.  Is  she  any  less  attractive?  If  she  has  a 
voice  in  the  making  of  the  laws  that  govern  her  and  her  chil- 
dren, will  she  become  coarsened  by  it?  Why  don't  you  help 
me  out,  Lucy?  You  know  more  about  it  than  I  do." 

"I  had  rather  not  discuss  the  subject,"  objected  Lucy  coldly, 
her  eyes  downcast. 

"I  think  she  is  wise,"  approved  John,  "since  you  only  care  to 
ridicule  and  sneer  at  opinions  other  than  your  own." 

"Nonsense,  John.  I  wasn't  ridiculing  you  or  anybody  else. 
But  that  stuff  about  woman's  place  in  the  home  is  mediaeval. 
What  a  decent  woman  wants  is  less  chivalry  and  more  real 
respect  and  consideration." 

"Then  you  don't  believe  that  women  should  expect  polite- 
ness and  deference  from  men  at  all?"  insinuated  Nannie. 

"Well,  I  don't  exactly  believe  in  fighting  with  them,"  con- 
ceded Jim,  smiling  once  more. 


BLIND    MICE  237 

"I'm  sure  I'm  not  trying  to  get  up  a  fight,  Mr.  Sprague," 
Nannie  snapped.  "I  was  simply  asking  your  view.  I  don't 
think  anybody  can  say  I  like  quarrels." 

"I  don't  either,  Mrs.  Merwent,  and  I  don't  think  we  are  go- 
ing to  quarrel."  Jim  spoke  as  though  dismissing  the  subject. 

"Well,  I  don't  care  to  quarrel  either,"  John's  cheeks  were 
flushed,  "but  I  must  say  that  I  reserve  the  right  to  hold  my 
own  opinions  on  the  subject,  and  do  not  care  to  be  dismissed 
as  though  I  were  impertinent  in  daring  to  express  them." 

"What's  the  matter  with  you,  John?"  Jim  looked  straight 
at  his  partner.  "I  don't  object  to  your  having  your  opinion 
on  this  or  any  other  subject,  but  I  suppose  I  may  have  mine 
too." 

"Well,  please  don't  call  mine  mediaeval,"  retorted  John. 

"As  I  am  at  your  table  and  you  choose  the  occasion  to  read 
me  a  lesson  in  manners,"  Jim  flushed  also,  "I  will  of  course 
not  presume  to  question  any  further  opinion  of  yours." 

"Here !  You  two  men  frighten  me,"  protested  Mrs.  Mer- 
went, laughing  forcedly.  "Let's  change  the  subject.  What 
shall  we  talk  about — golf  ?" 

"I  don't  play  golf,  Mrs.  Merwent."    Jim  drank  some  water. 

"Oh,  dear!"  Nannie  made  a  gesture  of  despair.  "What 
shall  we  discuss  then?  Lucy,  you 'know  lots  of  things  to  talk 
about.  You  suggest  something." 

"It  makes  no  difference  to  me  what  you  talk  about,"  stated 
Lucy  enigmatically. 

Jim  glanced  at  her  in  surprise.  She  did  not  seem  to  notice 
his  troubled  eyes. 

"Wasn't  that  a  terrible  scandal  about  Mrs.  Fa rns worth  ?" 
Nannie  ventured  again.  She  addressed  Jim  as  before.  "Don't 
you  think  her  husband  ought  to  get  a  divorce?" 

"I  don't  know  much  about  it,"  he  answered. 

"Why,  the  papers  have  been  full  of  it." 

"I  have  only  seen  the  headlines.    I  didn't  read  the  details." 

The  conversation  lagged  during  the  remainder  of  the  meal, 
John  hardly  speaking,  and  Lucy  saying  not  a  word. 

As  Katy  brought  in  the  dessert  Nannie  whispered  to  John, 
"I  made  the  pudding." 

"It's  fine,"  John  whispered  back. 


238  BLIND    MICE 

When  they  rose  Mrs.  Merwent  and  John  went  into  the  liv- 
ing room  at  once,  and  sat  without  a  light  talking  in  low  tones. 

"Did  you  notice  how  strangely  Lucy  acts  even  with  Mr. 
Sprague  ?"  Nannie  glanced  toward  the  door  as  she  spoke. 

"He's  enough  to  make  anybody  act  strangely,"  was  John's 
irritated  response. 

"He  is,  John,  dear,  and  you  were  so  wonderfully  patient 
with  him.  But  Lucy  is  sick.  There's  no  doubt  about  that. 
Mentally  sick,  I  mean.  Oh,  John,  I  do  so  want  to  help  you 
out  of  this  terrible  situation!" 

He  pressed  her  hand. 

"You  help  me  every  time  you  breathe,  God  knows,  Nannie," 
he  asserted  feelingly. 

Lucy  and  Jim  were  silent  in  the  dining  room.  Contrary  to 
his  custom,  Jim  was  not  smoking. 

"Lucy,  are  you  offended  with  me  ?"  he  asked  at  length. 

"No,  Jim,"  was  the  reply.      , 

"What's  the  matter?" 

Tears  started  to  Lucy's  eyes  and  she  shook  her  head. 

"I  can't  tell  you,  Jim,"  she  said  in  a  low  tone,  after  a  pause. 

Jim's  eyes  were  deep  as  he  watched  her  pale  face  and  quiver- 
ing lips. 

"I  would  do  anything,  Lucy,  anything — to  help  you." 

"Thank  you,  Jim.    I  know  you  would." 

"Won't  you  let  me  try  ?"  he  began. 

She  shook  her  head. 

"No,  Jim.  It's  no  use.  Nobody  can  help  anybody.  I — 
I "  The  tears  stood  in  her  eyes  again. 

"Lucy,"  Jim's  voice  was  tense,  "if  you  knew  how  much  I— 
prize  your  friendship — how  much  I " 

"Don't — Jim "     She  spoke  under  her  breath. 

Nothing  was  said  by  either  for  several  minutes.  The  mur- 
mur of  John's  and  Nannie's  voices  continued  in  the  living 
room. 

"I'm  going."    Jim  rose  and  held  out  his  hand. 

Lucy  placed  hers  in  it.  His  clasp  was  warmer  and  longer 
than  it  had  ever  been  before. 

"Lucy,  if  you  need  rne — that  is  if  I——"    His  voice  tren> 


BLIND    MICE  239 

bled  but  his  eyes  sought  hers  insistently.  "If  you  need  me," 
he  repeated,  and  paused. 

"Thank  you,  Jim." 

"Tell  Dimmie  good-bye  for  me." 

He  went  out  without  saying  good  night  to  John  and  Nannie. 
Oicy  did  not  go  to  the  door  with  him. 

"Excuse  me,"  Mrs.  Merwent  called  from  the  living  room 
after  a  time.  "I'm  coming  in."  She  did  not  show  herself  im- 
mediately. 

Lucy  made  no  reply,  and  Nannie  approached  the  door  and 
looked  in. 

"Why,  where  is  Mr.  Sprague?"  she  inquired. 

"He  has  gone  home."  Lucy's  expression  was  hostile.  "And 
if  he  were  here,  you  need  not  insult  us  both  by  warning  us 
that  you  were  coming." 

"Why,  Lucy,  I  only  thought " 

"You  only  thought  something  vile,  as  usual,"  Lucy  inter- 
rupted. 

"What  right  have  you  got  to  say  such  a- thing  as  that  to  me?" 

"You  have  given  me  the  right  to  say  far  worse  things  to 
you.  You  are  not  in  a  position  to  defend  yourself  from  any- 
thing I  care  to  say."  Lucy's  tone  was  hard.  Nannie  could 
not  meet  her  daughter's  eyes. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?"  demanded  Mrs.  Merwent 
angrily. 

"You  know  very  well  what  I  mean,"  declared  Lucy  evenly, 
rising  and  starting  toward  the  hall. 

John  appeared  on  the  threshold. 

"Where's  Jim?"  he  questioned. 

"He's  gone  home,"  Nannie  informed  him. 

"Well,  what  did  he  sneak  out  without  saying  a  word  for?" 

Lucy's  eyes  glinted,  but  she  only  said,  "You'd  better  ask 
him.  I  don't  know." 

Dimmie  ran  in  from  the  kitchen. 

"Mamma!    Mrs.  Hamilton  wants "  he  began. 

"Come  to  bed.  You  can  tell  me  upstairs."  Lucy  caught  the 
child's  hand. 

The  two  went  out. 


£40  BLIND    MICE 

"John,  what  in  the  world  do  you  suppose  is  the  matter  with 
Lucy  ?  She  treats  me  terribly." 

"I'm  damned  if  I  know!"  exclaimed  John  fiercely.  "I'm 
sick  of  it." 

"I  don't  know  what's  to  become  of  us  if  she  keeps  on  like 
this,"  Nannie  continued. 

"Well,  I  know  what  will  become  of  me  if  it  goes  on  much 
longer !"  His  tone  was  eloquent. 

"Now,  John,"  Mrs.  Merwent  placed  her  hand  on  the  sleeve 
of  his  coat.  "For  my  sake,  John.  I  have  suffered  so  much 
for  Lucy  already."  Tears  seemed  near. 

"I'll  sit  tight  and  do  the  best  I  can,  Nannie,  but  as  much  as 
you've  done  for  me,  there  are  some  things  I  can't  bear." 

Nannie  sighed. 

"I've  noticed  that  every  time  she  sees  Mr.  Sprague  she's 
worse,"  she  remarked  significantly  a  moment  later. 

She  and  John  stood  looking  into  each  other's^f  aces. 

"Poor  John."    She  took  one  of  his  hands  in  both  hers. 

He  returned  appreciatively  the  pressure  she  gave  it,  then 
moved  away. 

"Are  you  going  to  bed  so  early  ?"  she  interrogated  uneasily. 

"No.  I'm  going  to  take  a  walk,"  he  answered.  And  the 
door  slammed  after  him. 


XXVII 

Lucy  rose  early  the  following  day,  and  when  John  and  Nan- 
nie came  downstairs  they  found  her,  pale  and  haggard,  mov- 
ing about  the  kitchen  giving  instructions  to  Katy. 

"Now,  Lucy,"  objected  Mrs.  Merwent,  "you  shouldn't  do 
this.  Dr.  Hamilton  said  you  were  to  have  absolute  •  rest." 
Nannie  herself  looked  fresh  and  immaculate.  "If  you  don't 
stop  frowning  like  that,"  she  added,  "nothing  on  earth  will 
ever  take  the  wrinkles  out  of  your  forehead." 

Without  replying  to  her  mother,  Lucy  finished  her  market- 
ing list. 

"Put  breakfast  on,  Katy,"  she  said  to  the  servant. 

"Yes,  you  may  put  breakfast  on,  Katy,"  repeated  Mrs.  Mer- 
went. "Mr.  Winter  is  waiting." 

"Yes,  Miss  Nannie.  Right  dis  minute,"  replied  the  negress 
with  alacrity. 

The  postman's  whistle  blew  and,  as  Katy  was  busy  with  the 
dishes,  Nannie  went  to  the  door.  She  returned  with  a  letter 
in  her  hand. 

"I  suppose  your  father  has  some  more  insults  to  heap  on 
me,"  she  observed  acridly,  as  she  gave  the  envelope  to  Lucy. 

Lucy  glanced  at  it  and  recognized  Mr.  Merwent's  hand- 
writing. She  left  the  room. 

"Oh,  don't  be  afraid !  I'm  not  going  to  ask  you  what's  in 
it !"  Nannie  called  after  her  in  a  trembling  voice. 

John  was  reading  the  morning  paper  in  the  living  room  and 
Dimmie  was  out  of  doors,  so  when  Lucy  mounted  the  stairs 
the  upper  floor  was  deserted.  She  entered  her  bedroom  and, 
locking  the  door,  seated  herself  weakly  on  the  edge  of  her 
bed.  She  opened  the  letter. 

"Dear  Daughter,"  it  began.  "We  leave  in  the  morning  as  I 
expected.  Ellen  and  I  had  hoped  to  see  you  and  the  boy  once 
more  before  our  departure,  but  Miss  Storms  learned  through 

241 


BLIND    MICE 

your  husband  that  you  were  not  coming  again,  and  also  that 
you  were  not  well.  I  can  understand  that  your  nerves  have 
been  nearly  ruined  and  imagine  your  condition. 

"It  seems  strange  that  peace  loving  people  like  you  and  me 
and  Ellen  should  be  forced  to  quarrel  with  each  other.  I  do 
not  blame  you  (you  will  say  I  have  no  right  to  do  so),  nor  is 
it  my  place  to  comment  on  the  attitude  your  husband  has 
taken.  Sufficient  to  say  that  he  has  accepted  your  mother's 
assessment  of  values  in  family  matters. 

"I  know  that  you  wish  to  remain  neutral,  but  I  have  learned 
to  my  own  sorrow  the  impossibility  of  a  neutral  peace  where 
your  mother  is  concerned.  It  seems  to  me,  as  things  are,  that 
the  kindest  thing  Ellen  and  I  can  do  in  your  interest  is  to  do 
nothing  and  consider  ourselves  entirely  out  of  the  matter. 

"Remember,  Lucy,  no  matter  what  you  may  think  of  me, 
that  I  blame  you  in  nothing,  and  that  I  try  to  regard  your  hus- 
band's hostility  to  us  with  as  much  detachment  as  is  in  accord 
with  my  respect  and  affection  for  Ellen  and  the  right  I  feel  to 
demand  that  respect  from  others. 

"Kiss  the  little  boy  for  us  both.  We  hope  from  our  hearts 
that  your  indisposition  is  not  serious.  You  know  the  cure. 
Ellen,  in  particular,  regrets  the  impossible  circumstances,  etc. 
But  why  say  more  of  that? 

"Your  friend  and  father, 

"Arthur  Merwent." 

Lucy  sat  for  some  time  with  the  letter  in  her  hand.  When 
she  finally  rose  it  was  to  begin  to  dress  for  the  street. 

A  little  later  she  descended  the  stairs,  wearing  her  hat  and 
carrying  her  gloves  and  purse..  Nannie  and  John  were  break- 
fasting when  she  entered  the  dining  room  and  took  her  place 
at  the  table. 

"You're  not  going  out  this  morning,  are  you,  Lucy  ?"  Nan- 
nie inquired,  staring  at  her  daughter's  apparel.  "You  know 
the  doctor  said  you  were  to  keep  quiet." 

"Yes,  I'm  going  out,"  Lucy  told  her. 

"Now,  Lucy,  you  ought  not  to  disobey  the  doctor's  orders. 
You  will  be  much  better  quiet  here  at  home." 

Lucy  did  not  reply. 


BLIND    MICE  243 

"Where  are  you  going?"    Mrs.  Merwent  persisted. 

"I'm  going  down  town." 

"Are  you  going  shopping?" 

"No." 

"Well,  /  don't  think  you  ought  to  go.    Do  you,  John?" 

"What  I  think  is  of  little  consequence  in  this  house,"  an- 
swered John.  He  scanned  the  newspaper  at  his  elbow  as  he 
spoke. 

"Didn't  you  say  last  night  that  you  were  going  to  Benton 
Harbor  again  today,  John?"  Nannie  asked  somewhat  ir- 
relevantly, glancing  sharply  at  Lucy's  face. 

"Yes."    John  picked  up  his  paper. 

"And  you  won't  be  back  till  night?"  she  pursued  with  her 
eyes  still  on  Lucy's  profile. 

"No."    John  went  on  reading. 

"Well,  I'm  certain  Lucy  ought  not  to  go."  Nannie  returned 
to  the  first  topic  with  seeming  carelessness. 

Though  Lucy  had  scarcely  tasted  her  breakfast  she  rose  and, 
taking  up  her  purse  and  gloves,  went  upstairs  again.  She  did 
not  take  Dimmie  to  Mrs.  Hamilton's  until  her  husband  and 
mother  had  gone  to  the  station. 

Dr.  Hamilton,  after  a  sleepless  night  with  a  bad  patient, 
was  sitting  with  his  wife  at  the  table  finishing  a  late  breakfast, 
when  Lucy  and  Dimmie  came  in. 

"I  thought  you  were  taking  the  rest  cure,"  the  doctor  greeted 
Lucy  jocularly.  He  got  up  and  lifted  Stella  from  her  high 
chair  beside  him.  The  little  girl  flew  enthusiastically  to  wel- 
come Dimmie. 

"I  am."    Lucy  smiled  rather  wanly. 

"How  is  your  mother?  She  ought  to  have  used  her  in- 
fluence to  keep  you  at  home  today,"  Dr.  Hamilton  resumed. 

"Mrs.  Merwent  is  very  well,  thank  you."  Lucy  stooped  to 
kiss  Stella. 

"I  hope  you've  come  to  spend  the  day,"  suggested  Mrs. 
Hamilton  cordially. 

"No.    I'm  going  down  town,"  replied  Lucy. 

"I  don't  know  about  that,"  objected  the  doctor  doubtfully. 

"Please  don't,  Dr.  Hamilton,"  Lucy  protested  quickly. 

He  glanced  at  her  keenly. 


244  BLIND    MICE 

"I  think  perhaps  going  out  a  little  may  do  you  good,"  he 
conceded  after  a  moment. 

Lucy  had  seated  herself  in  a  bow  window  commanding  the 
street.  Soon  she  saw  Nannie  returning  from  the  station. 

"When  does  the  train  leave,  Doctor  ?"  Lucy  asked. 

"In  eight  minutes,"  he  informed  her,  after  consulting  his 
watch. 

"Well,  then,  I'll  be  going."    Lucy  rose  and  shook  hands. 

"Come  over  whenever  you  can  and  bring  Dimmie  and  stay 
as  long  as  you  can,  won't  you,  Mrs.  Winter?"  urged  Mrs. 
Hamilton  earnestly.  "And  your  mother,  too.  I'm  afraid  she's 
standing  on  ceremony." 

"Thank  you,  Mrs.  Hamilton ;  I  will,"  Lucy  smiled  evasively. 

In  less  than  an  hour  she  rang  the  bell  at  Miss  Storms's 
apartment. 

"Why,  Mrs.  Winter!"  exclaimed  the  maid  as  she  opened 
the  4oor  and  saw  Lucy.  "Miss  Storms  is  out.  She  went  to 
see  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Merwent  off  but  she'll  be  back  at  ten.  Won't 
you  wait?  I'm  sure  she  would  be  disappointed  at  not  seeing 
you.  I  think  she  thought  you'd  be  at  the  station." 

"Yes,  I'll  wait,"  agreed  Lucy. 

"Come  right  in  and  take  a  chair,  Mrs.  Winter." 

Lucy  entered  the  pleasant  reception  room  and,  taking  up  a 
book  from  a  table,  sat  down  by  a  window.  Although  the 
volume  was  the  translation  o;f  a  Russian  novel  she  had  often 
wished  to  see,  her  interest  evidently  was  not  in  what  she  read. 
Most  of  the  time  while  the  book  was  in  her  hand  she  spent  in 
staring  over  the  roofs  of  the  city  that  stretched  before  her. 
Finally  Miss  Storms'  key  was  heard  in  the  latch  and  the  door 
opened. 

"Why,  Lucy !  Bless  your  heart.  I'm  so  glad  you're  better," 
Miss  Storms  ejaculated,  kissing  her  friend's  cheek.  "They've 
just  gone.  If  you'd  come  to  the  station  you  could  have  caught 
them." 

"I  wanted  to  see  you,"  replied  Lucy,  not  responding  to  her 
hostess's  smile. 

Miss  Storms  was  studying  Lucy's  face  carefully. 

"I  see  you  have  been  reading  Sanin.  What  do  you  think 
of  it?" 


BLIND   MICE  245 

"I  didn't  read  much,"  Lucy  confessed.  "You  said  that  if 
ever  I  was  in  trouble  I  must  come  to  you." 

"Yes."  Miss  Storms'  tone  became  sympathetic  at  once  and 
she  took  the  younger  woman's  hand. 

"Well,  I've  come."     Lucy's  voice  trembled  slightly. 

There  was  a  pause. 

"What  is  it,  dear?"  Miss  Storms  asked  at  last,  stroking  the 
hand  she  held. 

"Oh,  Miss  Storms,  I  got  a  note  from  Papa  this  morning 
just  before  I  left.  I — I "  Lucy  stopped. 

Miss  Storms  nodded  comprehendingly. 

"I  hardly  know  what  to  say,  dear,"  she  began. 

Lucy  lifted  strange  eyes  with  dilated  pupils,  then  turned 
away. 

"Arthur  is  terribly  hurt  by  John's  attitude,"  Miss  Storms 
continued,  scrutinizing  Lucy's  half  averted  profile.  "He  re- 
sents John's  position  in  regard  to  Ellen.  That's  natural,  but 
don't  think  that  he  ever,  for  one  moment,  mistakes  the  source 
of  it,  or  holds  it  against  you." 

Lucy's  hands  moved  uneasily. 

"Oh,  it  isn't  just  Papa,  Miss  Storms !"  she  burst  forth. 

Her  voice  was  hoarse.  She  kept  her  eyes  on  the  open  win- 
dow where  the  blue  sky  showed,  overcast  by  the  city  smoke. 

There  was  another  long  pause  before  Miss  Storms  went  on, 

"You  must  get  your  mother  out  of  the  house,  Lucy."  Her 
tone  was  emphatic. 

"But  where  can  she  go?  She  has  no  place  to  go,  Miss 
Storms!  Since  my  grandmother  died  there's  nobody  but 
Cousin  Minnie  Sheldon,  and  she  doesn't  want  Mamma." 
Lucy's  hands  beat  the  air  in  a  gesture  of  futility. 

She  rose  and,  walking  to  the  window,  stood  with  her  back 
to  Miss  Storms,  her  shoulders  shaking  spasmodically. 

Finally  Lucy  regained  her  self  control  and  faced  her  friend. 

"I'd  advise  you  to  poison  her,  dear,  if  I  weren't  afraid  of 
getting  you  in  worse  trouble  than  you  are." 

Lucy  smiled  slightly  but  almost  simultaneously  her  lip 
twitched  and  the  tears  started  to  her  eyes. 

"Oh,  don't!  Please  don't,  Miss  Storms,"  she  begged  hys- 
terically. 


246  BLIND    MICE 

"There,  dear.  Sit  down  again."  Miss  Storms  rose  and  led 
her  to  the  chair.  "Lucy,  I  have  to  confess  a  spinster's  tend- 
ency to  meddle,  I  suppose.  I  asked  John  around  here  the 
other  day  and  talked  to  him  about  this." 

Lucy  glanced  at  her  quickly. 

"He  didn't  tell  me  he  was  here,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice, 
staring  at  her  lap.  ""Oh,  Miss  Storms !" 

"Yes,  dear?" 

Under  Miss  Storms'  touch  Lucy  trembled  violently. 

"John  shouldn't  treat  me  the  way  he  does,"  she  wailed  like 
a  child.  "He  shouldn't  believe  her  insinuations.  He  has  no 
right  to  be  suspicious  of  me.  Oh,  Miss  Storms,  it's  awful! 
Jim  Sprague  was  at  our  house  last  night  and  I  didn't  dare  to 
treat  him  decently."  Lucy  began  to  weep  softly. 

"Does  he  think  that  you  and  Jim "  Miss  Storms  inter- 
jected incredulously. 

"I  don't  know  what  he  thinks!"  cried  Lucy  passionately. 
**I  don't  know  anything  about  him  any  more.  If  it  wasn't  for 
Dimmie "  and  she  broke  into  violent  sobbing. 

Miss  Storms  sat  with  her  chin  in  her  hands,  her  elbows  on 
the  arms  of  her  chair.  It  was  several  minutes  before  she 
spoke  again. 

"I  don't  know  what  to  say,  Lucy,"  she  admitted  finally.  "I 
realize  that  your  mother  is  a  moral  idiot,  and  that  John  ought 
to  see  through  her,  but  I  know  more  about  men  and  women 
than  you  do,  dear,  and  I  understand  what  a  woman  can  do  to 
a  man." 

"Ain't  I  a  woman,  too?"  Lucy  demanded  fiercely,  relapsing 
into  the  language  of  her  childhood. 

"Yes,  dear,  but  you're  not  the  courtesan  type.  You're  the 
mother  type,  and  you  don't  understand  the  other.  I  used  to 
think  I  was  the  cerebral  type,"  Miss  Storms  pursued  musingly, 
smiling  her  gently  ironical  smile,  "but  I'm  not.  I'm  the  mother 
type,  too,  and  I  wish  this  minute  that  you  were  my  child." 

"So  do  I,"  said  Lucy  quickly,  returning  the  pressure  of  Miss 
Storms'  hand. 

"Sex  is  the  most  of  life,  dear.  One  can't  escape  it  any 
more  than  one  can  death,  and  the  most  fatal  thing  is  to  try  to. 
Look  at  celibates  for  example.  I  have  learned  a  great  deal  in 


BLIND    MICE  247 

forty  years,  Lucy,  and  I  knew  when  I  advised  you  to  marry, 
that  John  was  not  great  individually.  But  he  is  nature,  dear, 
and  the  thing  to  do  is  to  get  the  other  woman  out  of  the  way. 
It  frightens  me  to  think  of  anything  else,  Lucy." 

"But  I  want  to  be  loved,  Miss  Storms."  Tears  were  in  Lucy's 
eyes  again.  "I  want — I  want —  She  could  not  go  on. 

"Lucy!  Do  you  love  Jim  Sprague?"  Miss  Storms'  voice 
was  sharper. 

"No !"  cried  Lucy  vehemently. 

"And  you  do  love  John,  don't  you?"  Miss  Storms  almost 
pleaded. 

"I — I  would  if  I  had  a  chance."  Hesitating  aver  the  first 
words,  Lucy  finished  determinedly. 

Miss  Storms  kissed  her  cheek. 

"The  only  thing  is  to  get  rid  of  your  mother,  no  matter 
what  the  difficulties  are,"  Miss  Storms  resumed  in  a  practical 
tone.  "Oh,  why  doesn't  that  Mr.  Walsh  say  or  do  something! 
At  all  events  we  must  get  her  away.  And  then  you  musn't 
even  forgive  John.  You  must  put  the  past  out  of  your  mind — • 
never  give  it  a  thought.  It  must  disappear  as  if  it  had  never 
existed.  Make  all  the  responsibility  yours.  John  must  never 
be  humiliated,  never  know  that  you  have  suffered." 

"But  what  about  me?"    Lucy  reminded  her  indignantly. 

Miss  Storms'  smile  was  rather  bitter  as  she  answered. 

"I  know  you  think  I  am  only  considering  the  man,  Lucy," 
she  replied.  "As  a  rule,  I  do.  I  did  in  your  father's  case. 
Women  have  to  take  the  responsibility  for  life.  Besides,  the 
man  is  the  potential  father,  and  until  the  woman  has  children 
she  worships  the  potential  father.  Afterward  she  worships 
the  children.  But  I'm  not  ignoring  you,  dear.  I  am  thinking 
of  you,  too.  John  is  still  the  potential  father,  to  you — of  more 
children,  I  hope." 

Lucy  was  silent  as  she  gazed  out  the  window. 

"You  may  think  me  hard  on  women,  Lucy.  Nature  is  hard 
on  them.  You  may  think  there  are  other  men — Jim  Sprague, 
for  instance — but  there  aren't.  The  female  is  the  type — the 
responsible  one.  They  are  the  race.  Men  are  their  posses- 
sions. You  chose  John  to  be  the  father  of  your  children — and 
you  didn't  Jim." 


248  BLIND    MICE 

Lucy  was  still  silent. 

"I  have  no  highfalutin'  ideas  about  the  sanctity  of  mar- 
riage, or  any  such  nonsense,"  Miss  Storms  went  on  in  the 
same  half  musing  tone,  "although  I  realize  that,  in  spite  of 
what  is  perhaps  some  intellectual  breadth,  I  have  an  old  maid's 
emotional  idealism.  But  the  fact  remains,  dear,  that  sex  is 
greater  than  we,  just  as  life  and  death  are  greater,  and  we 
can  escape  neither  its  ecstasy  nor  its  agony.  We  mate  to  suf- 
fer as  well  as  to  joy,  Lucy,  and  you  are  happier  than  I." 

Here  Miss  Storms  reverted  abruptly  to  her  practical  mood. 

"You  just  hold  on,  dear,"  she  advised.  "Men,  even  the 
greatest  of  them,  never  grow  up.  I  think  I  have  a  plan  that 
will  do  the  trick.  Let  me  gnaw  over  it  tonight,  and  I'll  see 
you  in  a  day  or  two.  Everything's  going  to  be  all  right." 
Miss  Storms  nodded  reassuringly. 

Lucy  hesitated  a  moment.    Then  she  arose. 

"Won't  you  stay  for  luncheon,  dear?" 

"No.    I  must  go." 

"Well,  you  will  hear  from  me  soon.  But  on  account  of 
John's  attitude  toward  Arthur  and  Ellen,  and  toward  me,  he 
must  never  know — more  than  he  already  knows — about  my 
having  anything  to  do  with  it.  Women  are  always  deceiving 
men  for  their  own  good,  you  know,  dear."  Miss  Storms 
jested  sourly. 

Lucy  made  no  sign  and  Miss  Storms  proceeded  in  a  busi- 
ness-like tone. 

"Now,  Lucy,  you're  strong — women  have  to  be — and  sen- 
sible. You  can  handle  this  situation,  dear.  You  must.  I'll 
help.  I  believe  my  idea  will  work.  If  it  fails  we'll  try 
another." 

"I  don't  think  it's  any  use,"  Lucy  confessed  hopelessly. 

"Oh,  yes  it  is.     Don't  lose  heart." 

From  the  apartment  Lucy  went  to  the  park,  and,  seeking  a 
secluded  spot,  seated  herself  on  a  bench  and  leaned  her  head 
against  her  hand.  She  remained  thus  for  more  than  an  hour. 
Tears  sometimes  flowed  down  her  cheeks,  but  she  made  no 
sound. 

Finally  she  rose  and  turned  her  steps  toward  the  office. 


XXVIII 

The  torpor  of  summer  was  in  the  air,  but  it  did  not  affect 
Jim's  industry.  Coming  into  the  office  from  a  luncheon  he 
had  scarcely  tasted,  he  removed  his  coat,  and  settled  himself 
for  a  hard  afternoon's  work.  The  windows  were  raised  but 
not  a  breath  came  to  stir  the  papers  on  his  desk.  The  murmur 
of  the  street  sounded  as  remote  as  the  echo  of  the  ocean  in  a 
shell. 

The  door  opened  and  Lucy  came  in.  Jim  glanced  up, 
startled,  but  did  not  speak. 

"I  want  to  talk  to  you,  Jim,"  Lucy  said  without  preamble. 
Her  face  was  set. 

"Sit  down,"  he  replied,  looking  at  her  keenly.  The  pencil 
in  his  hand  trembled. 

"I  couldn't  say  anything  last  night,  Jim.  I  am  in  the  great- 
est trouble  of  my  life."  She  picked  up  a  paper  weight  and  ex- 
amined it  as  she  spoke. 

"I  know,  Lucy,"  he  said,  laying  down  his  pencil. 

She  shivered  as  though  chilled  by  the  warm  summer  atmos- 
phere. Her  forced  calmness  forsook  her  suddenly. 

"Oh,  Jim!"  she  sobbed,  and  leaning  forward  on  the  desk, 
hid  her  face  in  her  arms. 

He  reached  out  his  hand  to  take  hers,  then  withdrew  it, 
and,  picking  up  the  pencil  again,  began  tapping  the  desk 
with  it. 

"What  shall  I  do,  Jim?"  Lucy  lifted  her  head.  She  had 
command  of  herself  now. 

Jim  went  on  tapping  the  desk  until  Lucy  reached  over  and 
took  the  pencil  from  him  and  laid  it  down. 

"Your  mother  must  go  away,"  he  declared  at  last 

"But  where  can  she  go?  She  has  no  money.  Cousin 
Minnie  doesn't  want  her.  She  has  no  other  relations,  and  be- 
sides, John  won't  hear  of  her  going." 

249 


350  BLIND    MICE 

"She  must  go  anyway,"  he  repeated. 

"I  can't  put  her  in  the  street.  Oh,  Jim,  I  don't  know  what 
to  do !  She's  changed  John  so  he's  not  himself  any  more. 
Everything  she  does  is  perfect  in  his  eyes.  I'm  always  to 
blame.  Everything  I  say  is  wrong.  She's  even  turned  him 
against  Dimmie.  What  shall  I  do?  What  shall  I  do?"  and 
Lucy  wrung  her  hands,  her  eyes  fixed  upon  Jim's  in  hungry 
appeal. 

Sprague  stared  at  her.  His  own  eyes  widened.  His  self 
control  went  to  the  winds. 

"Do,  Lucy?  Do!  Why  come  to  me!"  he  cried,  seizing  her 
hand  and  gripping  it  until  she  winced. 

"Jim!"  she  gasped. 

"I've  stood  all  I  can."  His  tone  grew  more  intense  with 
each  word.  "I've  never  been  too  honest  with  myself  about 
you,  Lucy,  but  I  knew  I  loved  you  a  long  time  ago.  I've  re- 
sented seeing  your  youth  slipping  by,  and  John  not  noticing  it. 
I've  tried  not  to  covet  his  wife,  because  I  thought  he  wanted 
her.  But  now  I've  got  to  tell  you,  Lucy.  /  want  you.  And 
I  don't  want  just  a  mystical  idea  of  you  either.  I  love  you, 
dear,  and  you  won't  have  to  be  afraid  of  my  ever  stopping. 
Let's  leave  the  people  who  don't  want  us  and  take  each  other. 
We  know  we're  good  enough  for  each  other.  Come  on,  Lucy. 
I  need  you.  You  are  the  only  person  in  the  world  I  ever 
trusted  implicitly.  You  must.  I  won't  give  you  up.  I  can't 
give  you  up.  Lucy,  Lucy " 

She  had  withdrawn  her  hand  from  his  and  was  regarding 
him  now  with  an  expression  of  wonder. 

"Why,  Jim,  what  do  you  mean?"  she  asked,  aghast  at  his 
torrent  of  words.  She  had  never  before  seen  him  under 
stress  of  uncontrollable  excitement. 

"I  mean  what  I  say.    Can't  you  see  how  I  love  you?" 

Lucy  had  forgotten  the  troubles  which  brought  her  there 
and  rose  from  her  chair  with  fear  in  her  eyes. 

"Stop,  Jim,"  she  commanded.  "I've  trusted  you,  too,  and 
you  have  no  right  to  talk  this  way." 

Jim  had  risen  also,  and  now  he  came  around  the  desk  and 
stood  in  front  of  her,  his  eyes  seeking  hers  insistently. 

"Right !"  he  repeated.    "I  have  the  right  that  my  love  gives 


BLIND    MICE  251 

me,  a  love  that  never  let  me  think  of  another  woman  since  I 
first  saw  you.  You've  trusted  me  and  you  ought  to  have,  be- 
cause I'm  worthy  to  be  trusted.  You  trusted  your  husband 
too,  and  he  allows  the  first  miserable  flirt  that  comes  into  his 
house  to— 

"I'm  going,  Jim.  I  can't  listen  to  such  things."  Lucy; 
moved  toward  the  door. 

"Stop,  Lucy,"  he  pleaded.    "Don't  go." 

She  hesitated.    Her  manner  was  hunted. 

"I'll  talk  reasonably,"  he  promised.  He  was  very  pale.  His 
voice  was  low  again.  "Sit  down,  please,"  he  added  as  she; 
remained  undecided. 

She  reseated  herself,  smoothing  out  her  gloves  over  and 
over  with  shaking  fingers.  Jim  took  his  place  in  his  chair  by 
the  desk  and  picked  up  the  pencil.  They  regarded  each  other 
with  fear  and  questioning.  He  had  the  look  of  a  man  pre- 
pared to  overcome  hard  things. 

"I  suppose  you're  thinking  of  John's  confidence  in  me,  and 
what  I  owe  myself  in  view  of  it,  and  all  that,"  he  began. 

"No,  I  don't  judge  you.  You  have  always  seemed  so  like 
a — no,  not  like  a  brother,  but  like  a  dear  friend  and  comrade 

that  I  could  always  depend  on — I  never  thought "  The 

words  would  not  come  and  Lucy  continued  smoothing  her 
gloves. 

Jim  had  himself  in  hand  again  and  began  speaking  very 
carefully,  drawing  circles  and  squares  on  a  piece  of  paper  as 
he  talked. 

"John  and  I  have  been  together  nearly  all  our  lives.  I  am 
not  going  to  say  anything  against  him,  Lucy,  but  before  I 
knew  you  I  realized  that  he  was — was  not  as  strong  as  he 
should  be.  When  I  saw  you  I  gave  you  the  devotion  of  my 
soul  that — I  needed  somebody,  Lucy — that  I  had  been  trying 
to  give  him,  because  you  were  worthy  of  it.  I  knew  you  were 
the  most  desirable  woman  I  had  ever  seen  and  I  acknowledged 
this  to  myself  without  cant.  I  was  proud  to  give  you  this 
honor  in  my  heart,  and  I  was  prouder  that  I  gave  it  to  you  as 
you  really  were.  What  John  gave  to  was  a  hazy  outline  of  a 
woman  seen  through  a  mist  of  sex  idealism.  Anyone  else 


252  BLIND    MICE 

would  have  done  as  well  as  you.  But  I  never  doubted  the 
reality  of  his  love,  such  as  it  was." 

Lucy  began  to  show  uneasiness  again.  Jim  noticed  it  and 
hastened  on. 

"When  your  mother  came  I  realized  at  once  that  you  were 
in  for  a  hard  time  and  I  stood  ready  to  help  John.  I  saw 
that  she  wanted  to  be  a  high  priestess  between  you  two  and  I 
set  out  to  combat  her  influence  over  him.  I  tried  my  best, 
but  he  didn't  want  any  help.  He  could  have  stood  with  you 
and  it  would  have  been  easy,  for  your  mother  is  too  cow- 
ardly to  carry  anything  through  against  opposition.  But  he 
fell  for  any  suggestion  she  put  out,  and  turned  against  me, 
which  wasn't  so  bad,  and  then  against  you  who  were  more 
loyal  to  him  than  I  even.  Every  cheap,  despicable  little 
woman's  trick  that  a  baby  could  see  through  was  another  ex- 
cuse for  turning  away  from  the  straightest  and  most  lovable 
woman  in  the  world  and  putting  a  little  contemptible,  shal- 
low  •" 

"Jim,  please,"  interrupted  Lucy,  stretching  out  her  hand  and 
touching  his. 

His  body  stiffened  at  the  contact,  but  with  a  strong  effort  he 
restrained  himself  from  another  outburst. 

"Lucy,  I  can't  help  it.  His  idea  of  woman  is  the  harem 
idea.  He  doesn't  want  you  because  you  are  too  big  and  too 
good.  She  suits  him  better.  They  don't  want  you.  They 
don't  want  us.  We've  only  got  each  other.  We  need  each 
other,  Lucy.  I  would  never  have  said  a  word  or  made  a 
sign  if  he'd  been  square — if  he'd  appreciated  you  and  wanted 
you.  But  you've  wanted  honesty  in  your  relation  with  him, 
and  he  couldn't  stand  it.  He's  failed.  He's  had  his  chance. 
You  don't  owe  him  anything  more,  and  I  don't.  We're  free, 
Lucy.  We're  free  to  take  each  other.  My  darling,  if  you 
knew  how  I  love  you "  His  voice  grew  husky  with  emo- 
tion. 

Lucy  rose  again,  pale  as  he.  Jim  sprang  to  her  and  placed 
his  hands  on  her  shoulders. 

"Lucy !  You  can't,  you  shan't  leave  me  without  saying  you 
love  me.  I  won't  allow  you  to  let  a  convention  rob  you  of  my 


BLIND   MICE  253 

love.  You're  mine,  Lucy,  mine,  mine,  mine !"  and  he  strained 
her  to  him. 

For  an  instant  her  resistance  was  broken  and  she  rested  in 
his  arms  as  though  it  were  at  last  a  place  where  she  could  be 
safe.  Then  she  gently  drew  herself  away  and  Jim  sank  into 
the  chair  beside  her,  his  head  in  his  hands. 

"I'm  sorry,"  she  began  in  a  shaking  voice.  "I  believe  you 
are  a  noble  man,  Jim.  You  stand  for  more  to  me  now  than 

anyone  else  in  the  world,  but — I  can't.  Poor  Jim,  I — I •" 

She  was  crying  softly. 

Jim  raised  his  head  and  looked  at  her.  His  eyes  hungrily 
took  in  the  rounded  forehead,  the  straight  nose,  beautiful  in 
profile,  the  ear  set  too  high  for  harmony  and  spoiling  the  ef- 
fect of  the  line  of  the  jaw,  the  almost  perfect  mouth  and  chin, 
so  appealingly  feminine.  His  gaze  devoured  her  eyes  with 
their  clear  unflinching  depths  of  honesty,  suggesting  little  of 
sex  as  it  is  generally  sought  for  by  men;  the  brown  of  her 
hair  with  almost  golden  strands  arranged,  as  always,  low  on 
her  too  generous  brow  and  swept  down  over  her  ears  with  the 
exact  curve  that  she  instinctively  knew  would  hide  and  pick  out 
all  the  points  that  needed  suppression  or  emphasis;  her  clear 
skin,  so  really  white  and  delicate  of  texture  as  he  knew  by  the 
glimpses  her  morning  dresses  had  given  him  of  her  neck  down 
by  the  shoulder  and  of  the  inner  surface  of  her  forearms ;  her 
hands  and  feet  of  normal  efficient  size,  the  hands  with  supple 
slender  fingers  widened  at  the  tips ;  her  body,  the  waist  but 
moderately  restricted  and  the  bosom  low,  suggesting  the  long 
and  willing  nursing  of  her  child — he  knew  her  so  well ! 

Suddenly  he  groaned.  Beads  of  cold  moisture  were  on  his 
brow. 

"I  can't  give  you  up."  He  spoke  with  difficulty.  "Lucy, 
Lucy,  he's  not  fit  for  you !" 

Lucy  did  not  try  to  hide  the  tears  that  coursed  down  her 
cheeks. 

"My  whole  life  is  yours,"  he  continued  with  suppressed  in- 
tensity. Then,  springing  to  his  feet  again  he  strode  toward 
her.  "Nothing  can  keep  me  away  from  you,  Lucy!"  he  said 
hoarsely. 

She  put  out  her  hand  and  as  it  touched  his  breast  he  stopped. 


254  BLIND   MICE 

"I  can't,  Jim !    Oh,  don't  you  see  I  can't  ?"  she  begged. 

Then  she  turned  and  went  swiftly  out  of  the  office. 

Jim  stared  at  the  closed  door  for  several  minutes.  At  last 
he  sat  down  slowly  at  his  desk.  He  covered  his  face  with  his 
hands  and  began  to  sob. 

Lucy  walked  the  streets  and  the  park  until  dusk. 

When  she  reached  home  neither  John  nor  Nannie  was  there. 

"Dey's  done  et  deir  dinnah.  I  'lows  dey's  gone  to  de 
t'eayter,  Miss  Lucy,"  volunteered  Katy. 

Dimmie  was  asleep  on  the  sofa  in  the  dining  room.  Lucy 
carried  him  upstairs  and  undressed  him. 

When  the  child,  whom  she  but  half  awakened,  had  gone  to 
sleep  again  she  lay  face  downward  on  the  bed  and  wept  until 
John  and  Nannie  were  heard  ascending  the  stairs, 

Lucy  did  not  go  to  breakfast  the  next  morning.  Katy  came 
up  with  a  tray. 

"I  don't  care  for  any,  thank  you,"  Lucy  said  through  the 
locked  door. 

When  she  descended  the  stairs  she  was  surprised  to  find 
John  still  at  home,  smoking  by  the  dining  room  table.  Mrs. 
Merwent  was  not  to  be  seen. 

"Aren't  you  going  to  the  office  ?"  Lucy  inquired  of  him. 

"No.  I  want  to  talk  to  you,"  he  answered.  His  face  was 
stern  and  his  voice  was  cold. 

"Where's  Mother?" 

"She  has  gone  some  place  with  Miss  Powell." 

Lucy  seated  herself  by  the  window. 

"I  came  back  to  the  office  yesterday  evening,"  John  began. 

Lucy  looked  at  him. 

"As  I  came  around  the  corner  I  saw  you  coming  out  of  the 
building.  I  went  in  to  see  if  there  were  any  letters  and  Jim 
Sprague  was  there  alone,  and,  what  is  more,  he  seemed  very 
surprised  to  see  me." 

"Well  ?"    Lucy's  tone  was  dull. 

"I  want  to  know  what  this  means.  That's  what  I  want  to 
know."  His  voice  grew  less  controlled  as  he  proceeded. 


BLIND    MICE  255 

They  gazed  at  each  other  with  hostile  faces.  Dimmie  en- 
tered the  room. 

"I'm  ready  to  go  to  Mrs.  Hamilton's,"  he  announced. 

Lucy  kissed  him,  inspected  his  clothes,  and  straightened  his 
hat. 

"Good-bye,  little  son,"  she  smiled. 

"Good-bye,  Papa,"  Dimmie  called  as  he  went  out. 

"Good-bye,"  John  responded  impatiently. 

"What  do  you  send  that  boy  over  to  Mrs.  Hamilton's  every 
day  for?"  he  demanded  harshly. 

"To  go  to  kindergarten." 

"Kindergarten!  There's  no  sense  in  his  going  to  kinder- 
garten in  the  summer.  But  if  there  was,  why  couldn't  he  go 
from  here?" 

"He  could." 

"Then  what's  the  use  of  bothering  your  neighbors  ?" 

"I  send  him  early  so  as  to  get  him  away  from  Mother  as 
much  as  possible,"  admitted  Lucy. 

"We'll  discuss  that  later,"  John's  lip  curled,  "but  first  I  want 
an  explanation  of  why  you  went  to  the  office  yesterday." 

"I  shall  explain  nothing,  John,"  Lucy  answered. 

"Did  you  see  Jim  Sprague?" 

"Yes,  I  did." 

"Well,  didn't  you  know  I  wouldn't  be  there  ?" 

"I  did." 

"Then  why  did  you  pick  out  a  day  when  I  would  be  away?" 

"I  wanted  to  see  Jim  alone." 

"What  for?"    John's  face  grew  redder. 

"I  wanted  to  consult  him." 

"Alone?"  sneered  John. 

"Yes,  alone." 

"What  did  you  need  to  consult  him  about?"  John  de- 
manded in  a  more  peremptory  tone. 

"That  is  my  own  affair,  John." 

"Well,  it  just  isn't  your  own  affair.  I'm  not  going  to  stand 
this  kind  of  thing  any  longer." 

"Neither  am  I." 

"You  won't  have  to,"  snarled  John. 

"Exactly.    I  have  decided  just  that." 


256  BLIND    MICE 

He  stared  at  her  in  astonishment. 

"What  do  you  mean,  Lucy?"    He  lowered  his  vioce. 

"I  mean  that  I  am  .going  to  leave." 

"With  Jim  Sprague?"  John  almost  shouted,  springing  to 
his  feet  and  walking  back  and  forth. 

"Katy  will  hear  you,  John." 

"Damn  Katy !    I  don't  care  who  hears  !"  he  snapped. 

"Very  well  then.    Neither  do  I,"  returned  Lucy  calmly. 

"I'll  just  tell  you  one  thing  right  here,"  John  continued, 
"and  that  is  that  you  and  Jim  Sprague  are  not  going  to  take 
my  child  away  from  me."  He  was  breathing  heavily  and  his 
eyes  were  suffused. 

"We  will  settle  about  the  child  legally,"  replied  Lucy,  in  the 
same  manner,  "but  you  are  mistaken  about  Jim.  I  am  not  go- 
ing away  with  him.  I  am  going  alone." 

"How  will  you  support  yourself?  I  suppose  your  father's 
wife  will  do  that."  John  almost  ground  his  teeth. 

"She  knows  nothing  about  my  plans.  I  shall  do  anything  I 
can  to  earn  a  living  for  myself  and  Dimmie.  Miss  Storms  will 
take  me  in  till  I  can  get  started.  I  can  do  book  binding.  I 
don't  intend  ever  to  be  dependent  on  anybody  again." 

A  frightened  expression  came  into  John's  eyes. 

"Lucy,  you  are  crazy!  You're  trying  to  scare  me.  What 
reason  have  you  got  for  leaving  your  home — your  husband  and 
child?" 

"I  don't  intend  to  leave  my  child !"  she  retorted. 

John  gazed  at  her  in  silence,  his  face  paling.  When  he 
spoke  again  his  manner  was  conciliatory. 

"Lucy!    Lucy,  you  don't  know  what  you  are  saying." 

"Yes,  I  do.    I  know  precisely  what  I  am  saying." 

"Lucy,"  John  was  on  the  defensive  now.  "I  can't  under- 
stand what  has  changed  you  so.  I'm  not  accusing  you  of  any- 
thing in  regard  to  Jim  Sprague,  but  it's  natural  that  I  shouldn't 
want  you  to  get  yourself  talked  about.  You  used  to  think  I 
was  always  right,  but  now  you  seem  almost  to  despise  me." 
His  voice  quivered  a  little.  "Let's  talk  things  over,  Lucy,  and 
not  go  on  like  this."  The  last  words  were  almost  beseeching. 

"Very  well,  John,  if  you  really  want  to  talk  over  matters 
and  are  ready  to  see  things  squarely,  I  am  ready,  too,  but  if 


BLIND    MICE 

not,  I  have  made  up  my  mind  and  know  exactly  what  I 
shall  do." 

John  sat  down  again  and  tried  to  light  a  cigarette,  but  his 
hand  shook  so  that  he  desisted  and  put  the  cigarette  in  his 
pocket. 

"What  is  it,  Lucy?"  he  asked  at  length. 

"Well,  in  the  first  place,  my  mother  must  leave  here." 

"Now,  Lucy,"  he  began  querulously,  "I  knew  you  were  go- 
ing to  say  that.  Why  you  should  be  so  prejudiced  and  so  vin- 
dictive against  Nannie  is  beyond  me.  What  earthly  reason  is 
there  for  putting  her  in  the  street — for  she's  got  no  place  to 
go  if  she  leaves  here !" 

"If  you  hadn't  flattered  her  and  influenced  her  she  would 
probably  have  been  married  by  now." 

"Lucy!"  John  was  horror  stricken.  "Married  to  that !" 

He  could  not  find  a  word  to  express  his  feelings.  "You  are 
absolutely  without  heart,  Lucy,"  he  protested. 

"Well,  if  you  insist  on  her  staying,"  cried  Lucy,  rising  from 
her  chair,  "I  will  apply  for  a  divorce  and  the  custody  of  my 
child  and  will  name  my  mother  as  corespondent  in  the  case!" 

"Lucy!"  articulated  John.    "You're  crazy!" 

"No,  I'm  not  crazy,"  she  went  on  tensely.  "That's  a  dozen 
times  you've  told  me  I  was  since  she  came,  but  I'm  not.  You 
are  the  one  who  is  crazy,  and  if  you  can't  come  to  your 
senses  in  any  other  way,  I'll  bring  you  to  them  right  now." 

"You  wouldn't  dare  do  such  a  thing,  Lucy!  Why,  it's 
ridiculous,"  John  argued.  "How  could  you  prove  such  a  fan- 
tastic joke?  Where  are  your  witnesses?"  John  grew  almost 
hysterical.  "You're  crazy,  Lucy!" 

"You'll  find  out  I'm  sane."  Lucy's  calm  was  ominous. 
"There  are  witnesses  enough  to  prove  what  she  is — my 
father,  Miss  Storms,  Jim  Sprague,  the  Hamiltons,  the  two 
servants  we've  had,  and  plenty  in  Russellville.  If  you  think 
it's  a  joke,  John  Winter,  you  just  go  on  and  find  out  who  the 
joke  is  on.  Everybody  but  you  sees  through  her  contemptible 
tricks.  I  won't  stand  it !"  she  continued  wildly.  "I'll  go  right 
now.  I'm  going  to  kindergarten  to  get  Dimmie.  Oh,  to  think 
that  I  ever  thought  I  loved  such  a  pitiable  excuse  for  a  man! 
Let  me  get  away  from  the  sight  of  you !  I  hate  you !  I  despise 


258  BLIND    MICE 

you!  I — I — oh!  How  can  I  say  what  I  feel  for  you!  Get 
out  of  my  .way!"  and  she  started  swiftly  for  the  hall  door. 

John  caught  hold  of  her  hand. 

"Don't  touch  me  again — ever — ever!"  she  almost  screamed, 
wrenching  herself  free. 

"Lucy,  Lucy — please — how  can  you  say  such  things !"  John 
was  cowed.  He  regarded  her  pleadingly.  Tears  were  in  his 
eyes. 

Lucy  stood  pale  and  defiant,  her  eyes  shining  as  if  with  ex- 
altation. 

"Then  choose  this  instant  between  me  and  my  mother  1" 
she  commanded  hotly. 

"I  will,  Lucy — I  will.  If  you  think  best  for  her  to  go,  I 
won't  say  anything  more.  But,  Lucy " 

"There  are  no  'buts'  about  it,"  interrupted  Lucy  remorse- 
lessly. • 

"I  don't  mean  that  I  want  her  to  stay,"  explained  John 
hastily,  "but  you  hurt  me  so  when  you  say  such  awful  things. 
You  have  told  me  a  thousand  times  how  you  looked  up  to  me, 
and  now,  after  what  you  have  said,  I  can  never  feel  that  you 
respect  me."  He  appeared  almost  ridiculously  like  a  small 
boy. 

"You've  hurt  me,  John,  for  a  long  time,  and  that's  why  I 
said  them,"  Lucy  replied  more  gently. 

John  sat  down  in  a  chair  and  buried  his  face  in  his  hands. 
Suddenly  he  began  to  sob,  his  shoulders  heaving  and  the  tears 
dripping  through  his  fingers.  Lucy  hesitated  and  then  came 
slowly  up  to  him  and  laid  her  hand  on  his  hair. 

"Don't,  John,"  she  entreated  in  a  soft,  almost  maternal  tone. 

"You've  hurt — me — so,"  he  faltered  abjectly,  his  voice 
choked. 

"Have  I,  John?  Poor  boy!  Oh,  John,  why  couldn't  you 
see  without  all  this  ?"  she  whispered  wistfully. 

"Lucy "  John  reached  up  and  put  his  arm  around  her. 

"Lucy — you  didn't  mean  all  those  things  you  said  about — 
about — me — about  my  being — only  an  excuse  for  a  man,  and 
about — despising  me?"  He  still  kept  one  hand  over  his  eyes. 

Lucy  hesitated  an  instant. 


BLIND   MICE  S59 

"No — John.  I  don't  think  I  really  meant  them,"  she  ad- 
mitted. 

John  reached  for  his  handkerchief  and  wiped  his  eyes. 

"And  you  didn't  mean  that  you  hated  me  ?"  He  pulled  her 
down  to  his  knee.  "You  still  love  me,  don't  you,  Lucy?" 

"Yes,  John,  I  still  love  you." 

They  sat  several  minutes  in  silence. 

"Now  I'm  going  down  to  the  office."  He  lifted  Lucy  up 
gently  and  rose  from  his  chair. 

She  followed  him  to  the  hall. 

"Good-bye,"  he  said.  He  took  up  his  hat  and  held  out  his 
arms.  She  came  into  them  and  he  kissed  her  forehead  as  of 
old. 

"Good-bye,  dear.  Come  home  as  early  as  you  can,"  Lucy 
smiled  at  him  as  he  went  down  the  steps. 

She  watched  him  as  he  halted  in  the  gateway  to  light  a 
cigarette. 


XXIX 

John  entered  the  office  and,  after  hesitating  slightly,  greeted 
Jim  rather  ungraciously.  Jim's  reply  was  scarcely  audible. 
Their  eyes  met  for  an  instant  but  each  showed  that  he  was 
anxious  to  avoid  the  other's  gaze.  They  exchanged  a  few 
necessary  remarks.  Jim  held  out  the  photograph  of  a  lately 
completed  house.  His  hand  was  unsteady  as  he  called  John's 
attention  to  the  picture.  John  barely  glanced  at  it.  Coughing 
nervously,  he  walked  to  the  window.  After  a  few  moments 
he  murmured  something  unintelligible  about  Layard's  and, 
taking  up  his  hat,  went  out. 

When  Jim  was  alone,  he  stood  irresolute  for  a  time,  then, 
taking  his  own  hat  and  coat,  followed  John's  example. 

In  the  street,  Jim  took  the  first  surface  car,  without  even 
noticing  the  destination  indicated  on  the  front,  and  he  did  not 
reappear  at  the  office  until  late  that  evening. 

Nannie  did  not  return  to  Rosedene  until  nearly  five  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon.  She  came  at  once,  through  the  dining  room, 
into  the  kitchen  where  Lucy  was  making  a  dessert. 

"Just  look  at  my  clothes !  I  have  little  enough  without  hav- 
ing this  ruined."  Mrs.  Merwent  held  out  her  linen  skirt 
which  was  ripped  at  the  hem  and  had  a  small  tear  suggestive 
of  the  imprint  of  a  man's  boot  heel.  "The  cars  were  so 
crowded !  It  was  so  hot  standing  there  and  I  missed  the  first 
train.  Miss  Powell  had  an  engagement  and  couldn't  wait 
with  me.  If  I  had  only  known  I  was  going  to  be  so  late  I 
could  have  gone  to  John's  office.  Hasn't  he  come  yet  ?"  Nan- 
nie's air  was  injured. 

"No,  he  hasn't  come  yet."    Lucy  bent  over  her  work. 

"Why,  I  already  told  Katy  to  have  peaches  and  cream!" 
Mrs.  Merwent's  eye  took  in  Lucy's  preparations  and  her  voice 
rose  irritably. 

Lucy  made  no  response. 

260 


BLIND    MICE  261 

"Did  you  fix  the  celery  soup?"  Mrs.  Merwent  asked  the 
negress. 

"No,  Miss  Nannie.  You  see  Miss  Lucy  wanted  me  to 
have " 

"You  needn't  bother  about  the  dinner.  Everything  is 
ready,"  interrupted  Lucy,  looking  full  at  her  mother. 

"Now,  Lucy,  there  was  no  need  for  your  working  in  the 
kitchen.  I  had  instructed  Katy  about  everything,  and  two 
heads  only  make  confusion." 

"There's  only  one  head,"  replied  Lucy. 

"Of  course  I  know  that  you  are  the  mistress,  but  I  have 
taken  things  over  for  you,  and  it  only  mixes  things  up " 

"You  haven't  taken  things  over,"  Lucy  interrupted.  "I 
don't  need  your  help  any  longer." 

"Why,  Lucy " 

"From  now  on  I  shall  attend  to  my  own  household.  There 
is  absolutely  nothing  for  you  to  do." 

"Why,  Lucy,  what  has  happened?"  demanded  Nannie  in  a 
voice  in  which  was  mingled  astonishment  and  alarm. 

"A  lot  of  things  have  happened,  but  suppose  we  don't  talk 
them  over  before  the  servant."  Katy  had  gone  into  the  dining 
room. 

"Well !    When  John  comes  home  I  think  I'll  ask  about  this  !" 

"Do,"  advised  Lucy  as  Katy  returned  to  the  kitchen. 

Nannie  left  the  room  and  went  upstairs  to  experiment  with 
a  new  device  for  curling  the  hair,  one  of  the  day's  purchases. 

"Hello,  Mamma !"  shouted  Dimmie  shortly  afterward,  com- 
ing in  from  the  back  yard. 

"Hello,  Sonny,"  beamed  Lucy.  "Here,  let  me  get  you  ready 
for  dinner.  Papa  will  be  home  soon." 

"Has  Nannie  come?"  inquired  Dimmie. 

"Yes,"  answered  Lucy,  washing  his  face  and  hands. 

"Where  is  she?"  he  insisted.  "Don't  wash  so  hard,  Mamma. 
It  hurts." 

"Oh,  she's  upstairs,  I  think.  Now  come  let  me  brush  your 
hair." 

"I'm  goin'  upstairs  to  see  what  Nannie's  got  for  me !"  Dim- 
mie was  impatient. 

John's  key  was  heard  in  the  latch. 


262  BLIND    MICE 

"There's  Papa !"  exclaimed  Lucy.  "Let's  run  to  meet  him." 
And  catching  Dimmie's  hand,  she  ran  with  him  into  the  hall. 

Smiling  uneasily,  she  waited  for  John.  She  wore  a  blue 
muslin  dress  and  had  fastened  a  half  opened  white  rose  in  her 
hair. 

"Well,  dear,"  she  greeted  him. 

His  glance  passed  abstractedly  over  the  dress  and  the  rose. 
He  kissed  her  forehead  b«t  said  nothing.  He  seemed  worried 
and  depressed. 

"Is  anything  the  matter,  John?"  she  asked,  regarding  him 
timidly. 

"No-o,"  he  responded  indefinitely. 

"I'm  here,  Papa,"  called  Dimmie  who  had  not  been  kissed. 

"Yes?"    John  noticed  absently. 

"Get  washed,  dear.  Dinner  is  all  ready  to  put  on  the  table," 
said  Lucy. 

"Has  Nannie  come  back  yet?"  He  avoided  Lucy's  gaze  as 
he  spoke. 

"Yes.    She's  in  her  room." 

John's  frown  deepened.    He  mounted  the  stairs. 

Lucy  superintended  the  placing  of  the  meal  on  the  table  and 
John  reappeared  almost  immediately. 

"Isn't  she  coming  down  to  dinner?"  he  inquired  nervously. 

"Go  and  call  Mrs.  Merwent,  Kary,"  Lucy  bade  the  servant. 

Nannie  followed  Katy  downstairs  and  entered  the  dining 
room.  Her  hair  was  beautifully  curled  and  as  she  came  in  she 
put  her  hand  to  her  head  with  a  self  conscious  gesture. 

"Why,  how  are  you,  John?"  she  began.  "I  didn't  know 
you  had  come  home." 

The  meal  proceeded  in  constrained  silence. 

"Miss  Powell  and  I  had  such  a  nice  day,"  remarked  Nannie 
at  length,  "but  this  evening  I  got  into  a  jam  on  the  car.  I 
did  so  wish  you  had  been  with  me,  John.  The  most  insulting 
man!  He  crowded  me  so  I  almost  ruined  my  dress.  But 
that's  the  way  with  these  Chicagoans.  If  you  had  been  around 
he  would  have  behaved  mighty  differently." 

John  smiled  slightly  but  kept  his  eyes  on  his  plate.  Neither 
he  nor  Lucy  replied  to  the  remark. 


BLIND    MICE  263 

"We  thought  of  coming  past  your  office  but  we  were  afraid 
you  might  be  busy." 

"I've  been  very  busy  today,"  said  John. 

"Then  I'm  glad  we  didn't.  And  John,  sometime  next  month 
I  want  you  to  take  me  up  the  lake.  Miss  Powell  says  it's  such 
a  lovely  trip  in  the  early  summer.  You  will,  won't  you  ?" 

John  fidgeted  uncomfortably  and  Lucy  attended  assiduously 
to  Dimmie's  wants. 

"Why — of  course,"  John  agreed  after  some  hesitation. 
"That  is,  so  far  as  I  know  now."  He  laughed  uneasily  and 
added,  "We  may  all  be  dead  by  that  time." 

Silence  hovered  over  the  group  once  more. 

"You  look  frightfully  glum,  John.  I'm  almost  afraid  of  you 
tonight,"  observed  Mrs.  Merwent  after  some  minutes.  She, 
too,  laughed  rather  forcedly  as  she  spoke. 

"I  didn't  know  I  was  glum,"  apologized  John.  "I'm  rather 
tired.  I've  had  a  hard  day."  It  was  obvious  that  he  talked 
with  an  effort. 

"I'm  through,"  Dimmie  announced  with  a  sigh  of  satisfac- 
tion. 

"Are  you,  Son?"    Lucy  untied  his  bib. 

"Yes,  and  I  want  you  to  tell  me  stories  like  you 
promised  to." 

"All  right,"  Lucy  consented  brightly.  "Come  on.  Get  down 
from  your  chair  and  kiss  Papa  good  night,  and  we'll  go  up- 
stairs and  I'll  tell  you  ever  so  many  stories  till  you're  ready 
to  go  to  bed." 

"Will  you  sing,  too?"  stipulated  Dimmie. 

"Yes,  I'll  sing  too,"  she  promised. 

"I  want  to  kiss  Nannie,  too,"  Dimmie  declared,  climbing  out 
of  his  chair. 

"Of  course  you  do.  You  wouldn't  forget  Nannie,  would 
you,  Jimmie?"  Mrs.  Merwent  put  in  quickly.  "Wait  a  min- 
ute. Wipe  your  hands  first." 

"Poor  John!"  sympathized  Nannie  as  soon  as  they  were 
alone.  "I  could  see  that  you  were  tired  before  you  spoke 
of  it." 

"Oh,  I'm  all  right,"  exclaimed  John  irritably,  at  the  same 
time  lighting  a  cigarette. 


264  BLIND   MICE 

"I  know  you  never  let  on,  John,  but  you  can  always  be  sure 
that  /  understand  you,  whether  anyone  else  does  or  not." 

John  drummed  on  the  table. 

"Let's  go  into  the  sitting  room,"  suggested  Mrs.  Merwent, 
rising  as  Katy  entered  to  clear  the  fable.  "Shall  I  sing  for 
you  ?"  She  passed  into  the  living  room  and  moved  toward  the 
piano. 

"I  don't  believe  I've  got  time,"  explained  John  hurriedly. 
"I've  got  to  go  out  tonight.  I  ought  to  catch  that  next  train." 

"I'm  so  sorry,"  said  Nannie.  "I  especially  wanted  to  talk 
some  things  over  tonight.  I  got  another  letter  from  Professor 
Walsh,"  she  added  significantly. 

"Talk  what  things  over?"    John  gave  her  a  quick  scrutiny. 

Mrs.  Merwent  turned  with  a  surprised  air. 

"Why,  about  Lucy  principally,  John,  and — and  about  what 
ought  to  be  done." 

"What  about  Lucy?" 

"Well,  nothing  in  particular,  but  she's  getting  all  worked 
up  again  about  the  housekeeping,  and  I  thought  you  might 
speak  to  her." 

"Why  should  I  speak  to  her?"  John's  manner  was  com- 
bative. Nannie  gazed  at  him  reproachfully. 

"Well,  you  know  what  you  say  has  more  effect  on  her  than 
what  I  say.  If  you  would  just  tell  her  to  leave  things  to  me 
as  they  have  been,  and  not  go  and  bother  Katy  with  a  lot  of 
counter  orders  and  that  sort  of  thing.  It's  pretty  hard,  John, 
for  me  to  look  after  everything  and  then  be  interfered  with  all 
the  time." 

John  stood  twirling  the  charm  on  his  watch  fob.  When  he 
spoke  his  voice  showed  embarrassment. 

"I  think,  Nannie,  that — that  is — that  it  would  be  better — if 
you  didn't  try  to — to  take  things  out  of  Lucy's  hands  so 
much." 

Mrs.  Merwent's  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"Oh,  John,  how  can  you  say  such  a  thing  when  I  try  so 
hard,  and  all  I  do  is  for  her  sake?  I've  never  considered  my- 
self at  all." 

"I  know  you  haven't,  Nannie,"  acceded  John  miserably,  "but 


BLIND   MICE  265 

I'm — I'm  in  a  hard  place.  I  wish  you  and  Lucy  didn't  have 
to — to  disagree  so  much,  I'm  almost  at  my  wits'  end." 

Nannie  studied  his  perplexed  face.  Suddenly  she  seemed  to 
decide  something. 

"All  right,  John.  I'll  do  anything  you  say,"  she  promised, 
wiping  her  eyes.  "I  would  do  anything  for  you,  John.  You 
have  been  so  good  to  me." 

John  remained  in  an  attitude  of  thought. 

"Just  try  your  best  to  get  along  without  any  friction,  Nan- 
nie," he  begged.  "I  know  it's  hard  for  you  sometimes.  Lucy's 
peculiar  about  some  things.  But  I'm  about  to  go  dippy  with 
matters  as  they  are,  and  I  want  you  to  help  me  out." 

"Poor  John !  Of  course  I  will.  If  I  had  my  way  you  would 
never  have  a  care  or  a  worry." 

"Thank  you,  Nannie.  I  knew  you  would  help  me  all  you 
could.  Lucy  is  in  a  terribly  nervous  state  and  we've  got  to  get 
her  out  of  this  silly  notion  that — that — well,  that  she's  left 
out — or  she'll  do  something  foolish." 

"I  understand,  John.  Lucy  has  always  been  curious  and 

babyish,  but  now "  She  paused  expressively.  "There  has 

been  so  much  tragedy  in  my  life,  John,  and  now  to  see  you 
going  through  the  same  thing !" 

"I  guess  you  never  had  anybody  to  help  you  out,  Nannie." 
John's  voice  was  almost  inaudible. 

"John " 

"Yes,  Nannie.  I've  got  to  be  going,  you  know."  He  moved 
toward  the  door. 

Nannie  linked  and  unlinked  her  fingers. 

"We  do  sympathize  with* and  understand  each  other,  John! 
You  know  I  told  you  I  got  another  letter  from  Professor 
Walsh." 

"Well?" 

"Oh,  John,  if  it  were  anyone  but  you  I  would  rather  die 

than  ask  money  of  them — but  the  check  didn't  come — and > 

Oh,  John,  what  shall  I  do  ?"  She  began  to  cry. 

"How  much  do  you  want,  Nannie?" 

"Just  a  little,  John.  But  Lucy  always  misunderstands 
things — and  I  have  no  one  else  to  go  to!" 

He  took  a  bill  from  his  pocket  and  pressed  it  into  her  hand. 


266  BLIND   MICE 

"But,  John !"  she  protested,  glancing  at  the  denomination  of 
the  money. 

"Cut  that  out,  Nannie !"  John's  voice  was  gruff  with  emo- 
tion. "Some  things  may  happen  that  I  can't  help,  but  just  re- 
member, first,  last,  and  always,  that  what  belongs  to  me  and 
Lucy  belongs  to  you  too,  and  if  she "  He  broke  off  ab- 
ruptly and  strode  into  the  hall.  •  »< 

"Oh,  John,  I  can't  tell  you "  Nannie  began ;  but  for  re- 
sponse the  front  door  clicked. 

She  sighed  and  looked  down  at  the  money. 

John  walked  up  and  down  the  street  for  more  than  half  an 
hour.  At  the  end  of  this  time  he  met  Dr.  Hamilton  returning 
from  a  patient. 

"Well,  Mr.  Winter,"  the  doctor  halted  and  shook  hands, 
"you  seem  to  be  wandering  around  like  a  lost  soul." 

"I  had  a  slight  headache,"  lied  John,  "and  came  out  to  get 
a  little  fresh  air." 

"Good  stunt,"  approved  the  doctor.  "You  lead  a  pretty 
sedentary  life,  and  exercise  is  good  for  you.  How  is  Mrs. 
Winter?" 

"Oh,  I  think  she's  all  right  now."  John  shifted  his  weight 
from  one  foot  to  the  other. 

"Don't  allow  anything  to  worry  or  excite  her,  Mr.  Winter," 
Dr.  Hamilton  urged  earnestly.  "Her  nerves  and  heart  won't 
stand  it.  Well,  good  night.  I'm  going  to  get  a  cup  of  cocoa 
and  go  to  bed." 

"Good  night,"  answered  John.  "I  think  I'll  turn  in  too." 
And  he  made  his  way  toward  home. 

Letting  himself  in  through  the  front  entrance,  John  found 
both  living  room  and  dining  room  dark. 

"Where's  Mrs.  Merwent?"  he  queried  of  Katy,  who  came 
in  after  locking  the  kitchen  door  and  windows. 

"Why,  she  done  went  to  bed,  Mr.  Winter,  right  after  you  all 
went  out." 

As  he  ascended  the  stairs,  he  saw  through  the  transom  of 
Lucy's  door  that  her  light  was  burning.  He  had  been  sleeping 
in  Jim's  room  for  some  time  past,  and  now  made  his  way 


BLIND   MICE  267 

toward  it.  As  he  was  opposite  Lucy's  door  he  heard  her  call 
softly. 

"Why  don't  you  come  in,  John?"  she  asked. 

He  halted  and,  after  a  slight  hesitation,  turned  the  handle 
of  the  lock  and  entered.  Lucy  was  sitting  on  the  edge  of  the 
bed  braiding  her  hair.  She  smiled  pityingly  at  his  troubled 
face. 

"I  heard  you  go  out,"  she  said.  "I  expect  you  had  a  dis- 
agreeable time,  didn't  you  ?  What  did  she  say  ?" 

"Why,  I  had  a  talk  with  Nannie,"  John  parried  somewhat 
uncertainly,  "and  she  has  agreed  to — to — not  to — interfere  in 
the  running  of  the  house,  and  to — well,  you  know — cut  out  the 
kind  of  things  that  get  on  your  nerves.  I  thought  that  if  she 
would  quit  worrying  you,"  he  went  on  rapidly,  "that  it  would 
be  more — more,  well,  more  considerate  and — better,  not  to 
actually  put  her  out  of  the  house,  at  least  not  without  any 
warning."  He  rattled  the  keys  in  his  pocket,  avoiding  Lucy's 
gaze.  "Of  course  if  she  continues  to — to — that  is,  I  mean  if 
you  don't  want  her  at  all,  we  can  later  gradually — and " 

"And  you  didn't  dare  tell  her  to  go?"  Lucy  sprang  to  her 
feet.  Her  loose  hair  flowing  down  from  her  pale  face  gave 
her  a  ghost-like  appearance. 

"Now,  Lucy,"  pleaded  John,  his  eyes  meeting  hers  for  an 
instant  and  then  falling,  "I  really  don't  think  we  ought 
to "  His  voice  died  away. 

Lucy  gathered  up  some  clothing  from  the  bed  and  walked 
past  him  into  the  hall.  A  second  later  he  heard  the  door  of 
Jim's  room  shut  and  the  key  turn. 

John  went  twice  to  the  locked  door,  but  did  not  knock. 
Finally  he  went  to  bed  in  Lucy's  room.  He  lay  restless  for  a 
long  time.  Once  he  imagined  he  could  hear  Lucy  sobbing,  and 
at  length  he  rose  to  investigate.  He  could  distinguish  nothing 
but  Nannie's  gentle  snoring,  and  returned  to  bed. 

After  midnight  he  fell  into  a  sound  sleep. 


XXX 

When  John  awoke  it  was  late  and  he  hastened  to  dress.  On 
reaching  the  lower  hall  he  found  the  front  door  open.  Mrs. 
Merwent  stood  on  the  porch  staring  up  and  down  the  street. 

"Where  in  the  world  is  Lucy?"  she  began.  "I  heard  her  go 
to  Mr.  Sprague's  room  last  night,  but  the  door  was  open  this 
morning  when  I  went  past  to  go  down  to  the  kitchen." 

John  had  a  frightened  expression. 

"She  must  have  gone  out  for  an  early  walk,"  suggested  Nan- 
nie, after  a  minute's  time.  "She  used  to  do  such  things  often 
when  she  was  a  girl,  whenever  she  got  angry." 

"It  looks  like  it  was  going  to  rain,  too,"  commented  John 
worriedly. 

He  reentered  the  hall  and  took  his  hat  from  the  stand. 

"Did  you  have  a  quarrel  last  night  ?"  Nannie  catechised  in  a 
matter  of  fact  way. 

"No,"  he  denied  shortly. 

"Well,  come  on  in,  John.  Don't  go  out  now.  Wait  a 
minute."  He  had  made  a  motion  toward  the  door.  "Eat 
something  first.  She'll  probably  be  back  before  we  finish." 

He  hesitated,  turning  his  hat  in  his  hands. 

"Come  on,"  she  coaxed.  "There's  nothing  to  worry  about." 
Then,  as  he  vacillated,  she  caught  hold  of  his  arm.  "I'll  give 
you  some  coffee  right  away.  The  waffles  won't  be  fit  to  eat  if 
you  let  them  get  cold,  and  Katy  has  already  put  them  on  the 
table.  You  can  go  and  look  for  Lucy  afterwards.  She's  not 
gone  far." 

As  they  turned  to  go  in  Dimmie  appeared  on  the  stairs  in  his 
night  clothes. 

"I  want  my  breakfast,"  he  clamored.  "Where's  Mamma? 
She  ain't  in  her  room." 

268 


BLIND   MICE  269 

"Mamma  will  be  back  in  a  little  while,  Jimmie,"  said  Mrs. 
Merwent  soothingly.  "Come  on  and  I'll  give  you  your  break- 
fast." 

Lucy  was  in  the  train  bound  for  the  city. 

She  sat  staring  straight  before  her  at  the  back  of  the  next 
car  seat.  There  were  very  few  people  going  to  town  so  early, 
and  no  one  was  seated  beside  her.  Her  lips  moved  as  the  train 
sped  on. 

"Jim  is  the  only  one,"  she  repeated  over  and  over. 

She  was,  if  possible,  paler  than  ever,  and  her  eyes  shone 
with  a  peculiar  light. 

At  the  station  she  boarded  an  electric  car  that  passed  the 
apartment  house  where  Jim  lived.  She  and  John  had  been 
there  several  times  together.  In  front  of  her  sat  a  little  boy 
in  a  wide  sailor  hat,  and  on  the  same  seat  was  a  middle-aged 
woman.  The  boy  evinced  all  a  child's  interest  in  his  surround- 
ings, and  at  length,  turning  around,  wriggled  to  his  knees  and 
smiled  up  into  Lucy's  face.  His  blue  eyes,  bobbed  hair,  and 
fresh  color  really  suggested  Dimmie,  and  to  Lucy,  in  her  over- 
wrought state,  the  resemblance  was  startling. 

"I  can't!  Oh,  I  can't  do  it!"  she  murmured  passionately, 
to  the  child's  intense  surprise. 

His  eyes  opened  wide  and  he  stopped  smiling,  half  fright- 
ened as  she  bent  over  and  kissed  his  cheek.  The  middle-aged 
woman  jerked  him  back  into  the  seat  and  scrutinized  Lucy 
suspiciously.  Lucy  rang  the  bell  and  descended  from  the  car 
at  the  next  corner. 

"I'll  go  back !  I'll  go  back !"  she  whimpered,  as  a  punished 
child  submits  to  an  angry  parent. 

It  had  begun  to  drizzle.  She  was  unmindful  of  the  rain 
falling  on  her  hat  and  of  her  bedraggled  skirts.  Tears  rolled 
down  her  cheeks  and  fell  with  the  rain  drops  to  the  pavement. 
She  walked  unsteadily  and  her  breast  heaved.  Reaching  the 
station  she  took  the  next  train  to  Rosedene. 

Midway  between  the  station  and  the  house  she  met  John, 
who  was  striding  along  quickly,  and  anxiously  scanning  the 
street  up  and  down. 

"Where  in  the  world  have  you  been,  Lucy?    I've  been  wor- 


270  BLIND   MICE 

ried  almost  crazy!"  he  exclaimed  pettishly,  coming  up  to  her. 

Staring  straight  before  her,  she  did  not  answer  or  pause. 
John  followed  her  to  the  house,  glancing  furtively,  from  time 
to  time,  at  her  immobile  profile. 

"Lucy!  What  in  the  world  do  you  go  out  without  telling 
anybody  for?"  cried  Nannie  who  had  been  waiting  in  the 
hall.  "It's  been  raining,  too.  John  and  I  were  nervous  about 
you." 

Without  replying,  Lucy  proceeded  upstairs.  Dimmie  ran 
through  the  upper  hall  to  meet  her. 

"Hello,  Mamma!"  he  called.  "I  thought  you'd  runned 
away.  Nannie  dressed  me." 

Lucy  caught  him  in  her  arms  and  went  into  her  room,  lock- 
ing the  door.  Pulling  him  down  beside  her  on  the  bed,  she 
burst  into  a  terrifying  paroxysm  of  weeping.  Dimmie  soon 
began  to  cry  also,  from  fright,  and  Lucy  grew  calmer. 

"Oh,  little  son,  little  son!"  she  moaned  again  and  again. 

Soon  Dimmie  slipped  to  the  floor  and  began  to  play  with 
her  work  box,  while  she  remained  in  the  same  position,  utterly 
exhausted. 

"It's  past  time  for  you  to  go  to  Mrs.  Hamilton's,  dear,"  she 
observed  finally,  looking  at  the  alarm  clock  on  the  table  by 
the  bed,  and,  at  the  same  time,  rising. 

She  brushed  his  hair  and  brought  his  hat  from  the  ward- 
robe. 

"Kiss  Mother/' 

Dimmie  obeyed,  then  clattered  down  the  stairs. 

Once  alone,  Lucy  rearranged  her  hair  carefully,  put  on  a 
fresh  house  dress,  and  descended  to  the  living  room. 

John  was  walking  up  and  down  when  Lucy  appeared.  They 
could  hear  Nannie  in  the  dining  room  instructing  Katy  re- 
garding luncheon.  The  windows  were  open  and  the  breeze 
jjihat  stirred  the  curtains  smelled  of  the  rain  and  of  some 
aromatic  weed  that  grew  high  and  thick  in  the  adjoining 
meadow. 

"You'll  miss  your  train,  John,"  Lucy  suggested  gently  as  she 
entered  the  room.  She  had  regained  her  usual  composure. 

John  consulted  his  watch. 


BLIND    MICE  271 

"It's  gone  long  ago,"  he  replied  moodily. 

"Well,  you  can  catch  the  next  one  if  you  start  at  once." 
Lucy  picked  up  the  small  clock  that  stood  beside  Nannie's 
metronome  on  the  piano.  "Go  on,"  she  continued  as  he  hesi- 
tated. "There's  no  need  for  your  staying." 

"Well,  Lucy,  if  you're  going  to  do  things  like  this  at  a 
moment's  notice,  how  can  I ?" 

"I'm  not  going  to  do  anything  more,"  she  returned  calmly. 
"Go  on  to  the  office.  You  needn't  worry  about  me  any  more." 

"Well,  if  I  was  certain  that  you " 

"You  can  be  certain,"  assured  Lucy  quickly. 

"Well,  good-bye,  then."  John  moved  slowly  toward  the 
hali. 

"Good-bye,  John,"  Lucy  answered. 

The  front  door  had  scarcely  closed  after  him  when  Nannie 
came  in  from  the  dining  room. 

"I  was  just  giving  Katy  orders  about  luncheon,  Lucy,"  re- 
marked Nannie  suavely,  "but  of  course  if  you  want  something 
different  you  can  tell  her  and  it  will  be  all  right." 

"It's  all  right  as  it  is,  Mamma,"  said  Lucy. 

Mrs.  Merwent  raised  her  eyebrows. 

"Well!  I'm  glad  you've  started  to  call  me  by  my  right 
name."  Lucy  did  not  speak  and  Nannie  continued  virtuously. 
"It's  just  as  you  say  about  luncheon,  Lucy.  You  are  the 
mistress.  I'm  sure  /  don't  want  to  do  or  say  anything  that 
will  make  unpleasantness.  John  has  enough  to  worry  about 
without  us  disagreeing.  I  wish  we  could  get  along  without 
so  many  misunderstandings,  Lucy.  I'm  sure  I  do  my  part." 

"I  wish  so  too,  Mamma."  Lucy's  tone  was  free  from  irri- 
tation or  sarcasm. 

"Well,  Lucy,  maybe  we  can  from  now  on.  I  know  nobody 
tries  harder  or  wants  more  to  have  things  pleasant  than 
I  do." 

"Did  you  notice  where  my  mending  was  put,  Mamma?" 
Lucy  inquired  after  a  moment  in  the  same  propitiatory 
manner. 

"Wait  a  minute.     I  think  it's  tinder  that  flower  stand." 


BLIND    MICE 

Nannie  brightened  appreciably.    "Did  you  find  it?"  she  called 
back,  on  her  way  to  the  kitchen. 

"Oh,  yes.  Here  it  is.  Lucy  gave  a  trembling  sigh  and 
seated  herself. 

At  almost  the  same  moment  that  Lucy  took  up  her  sewing 
Jim  was  walking  slowly  down  the  boulevard,  his  fists  in  his 
coat  pockets  and  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  ground. 

He  did  not  notice  Miss  Storms's  car  until  it  was  drawn 
up  to  the  kerb  beside  him,  almost  within  reach. 

She  opened  the  door  and  leaned  out. 

"Get  in,  Jim.    I  want  to  talk  to  you  a  little,"  she  called. 
Jim  obeyed  without  a  word. 

"Where  were  you  going?"  she  asked,  shaking  hands  with 
him. 

"Nowhere  in  particular,"  he  answered. 

Miss  Storms  gave  an  order  through  the  speaking  trumpet 
to  her  chauffeur,  and  the  car  started  slowly. 

"Jim,  you're  a  good  boy,"  she  began. 

"I'd  rather  have  you  think  so  than  almost  anyone,"  he  re- 
plied with  a  slight  smile. 

"But  you're  not  very  deep,"  she  continued,  smiling  back 
at  him. 

"That's  no  news,"  he  returned. 

"I've  been  thinking  of  Lucy  night  and  day  lately.  It's  up 
to  you  to  straighten  this  thing  out,  Jim..  I've  tried  and  I 
can't." 

Jim  stared  at  the  passing  vehicles  for  several  moments  be- 
fore he  spoke. 

"I  know  what  you  mean,  Miss  Storms.  It's  no  go.  I've 
tried  too,  and  only  balled  things  all  up."  He  looked  straight 
at  her  an  instant,  then  glanced  away  once  more,  coloring  pain- 
fully. 

"But  I'm  helpless,  Jim." 

"So  am  I." 

"Just  wait  a  second."  Miss  Storms  touched  his  sleeve  with 
her  gloved  fingers.  "It  isn't  just  that  Lucy's  mother  thinks 
I've  aided  and  abetted  Ellen  Low  in  stealing  her  husband. 
The  trouble  is  that  I'm  not  a  man." 


BLIND    MICE  273 

Jim's  smile  was  wry. 

"Being  a  man  wouldn't  help  you  any,  Miss  Storms."  He 
fumbled  a  tassel  on  the  window  curtain  at  his  side.  "I've  tried 
to  help  Lucy  all  I  could — and  John,"  he  added. 

Miss  Storms  scrutinized  him  with  kindly  eyes.  He  grew 
red  to  his  hair. 

"You  poor  boy!"  she  said  at  length,  squeezing  his  hand. 
"Do  you  know,  I'm  inclined  to  fall  in  love  with  you  myself." 

"Miss  Storms,"  he  stammered,  "that  is — I'm  afraid  you 
don't " 

"I'm  afraid  I  do."  She  contradicted  him  affectionately, 
releasing  him  and  turning  to  the  window.  "Do  you  want  to 
smoke?"  she  resumed  abruptly. 

"I'm  afraid  I'll  contaminate  your  cushions  and  curtains," 
he  objected. 

"I  wish  they  never  had  anything  worse  than  you  and  your 
pipe  around  them!"  Her  expression  was  whimsical. 

Jim  lit  his  pipe. 

"You're  a  bad  strategist,  Jim,"  she  went  on.  "What  is 
needed  is  attack  and  not  defence.  And  Jim,"  she  laid  her 
hand  on  his  arm  again,  "we  must  save  things  as  they  are" 

"I  understand."  He  nodded.  "You  needn't  be  afraid  of 
me  now."  He  did  not  see  the  pity  in  her  eyes  at  the  "now." 
"I  don't  know  what  more  I  can  do — either  good  or  harm," 
he  supplemented. 

"You  can  do  everything — nearly." 

"I  don't  see  what  you  mean,  Miss  Storms." 

The  ironical  lines  about  her  mouth  deepened. 

"Nobody  sees,"  she  retorted  almost  impatiently.  "That's 
just  it.  Jim,  I  want  you  to  memorize  something.  It  may  do 
you  good." 

"What  is  it?"     Jim  looked  puzzled. 

Miss  Storms  held  up  one  finger  as  though  speaking  to  a 
child,  and  repeated  gravely, 

"Three  blind  mice, 
See  how  they  run. 
They  all  run  after  the  farmer's  wife. 


274  BLIND   MICE 

She  cut  off  their  tails  with  a  carving  knife. 
,  Did  you  ever  see  such  fools  in  your  life, 

As  three  blind  mice?'* 

Jim  regarded  her  with  a  curious  expression. 

"That's  it,"  she  ended.  "There's  nothing  more  that  could 
be  said." 

"We're  blind  mice,  all  right,"  Jim  remarked  without  spirit, 
as  if  to  himself. 

"Poor  boy!"  Miss  Storms  spoke  simply,  almost  with  ten- 
derness. 

"She's  cut  more  than  our  tails  off,"  he  growled  huskily. 

Miss  Storms  laid  her  hand  softly  on  his. 

"Miss  Storms,  if  you'll  tell  me  what  to  do,  I'll  do  it."  His 
voice  had  a  new  note. 

"A  flank  movement  is  the  best,  Jim.  You  must  tell  Lucy's 
mother  that  you  are  going  to  Russellville  and  will  see  the 
Professor  Walsh  she  is  going  to  marry." 

"Oh!"  There  was  understanding  and  admiration  in  Jim's 
voice. 

"You  might  mention  Minnie  Sheldon,  too,  and  I'll  find  out 
a  few  more  from  some  old  letters  of  Ellen  Low's  I  have. 
As  I  told  you,  I  am  helpless  on  account  of  Ellen  and  Arthur 
Merwent.  Anything  I  might  do  would  make  things  worse, 
but  you  are  exactly  in  the  position  to  succeed,  Jim,  and  it  will 
be  easy." 

"I  wonder  where  Eucy's  mother  could  go,"  he  mused. 

"Ruthlessness  appears  to  be  a  purely  female  trait."  Miss 
Storms'  half  humorous  air  was  full  of  bitterness. 

"Oh,  I'll  do  it  all  right,"  Jim  promised.  "Don't  you 
worry." 

"I  won't.  I'll  call  you  up  and  give  you  the  ammunition 
early  in  the  morning." 

"We're  only  two  blocks  from  the  office.  Let  me  out  here," 
requested  Jim,  observing  the  buildings.  "Good-bye." 

"Good-bye,  Jim."    They  shook  hands  warmly. 

John's  expression  as  he  came  info  the  house  in  the  evening 
was  worried  and  uncertain. 


BLIND    MICE  275 

He  had  left  the  office  a  little  earlier  than  usual  and  reached 
Rosedene  on  a  train  which  arrived  there  before  the  customary 
hour.  He  found  Lucy,  Dimmie,  and  Nannie  sitting  in  the 
dining  room.  Lucy  was  reading  aloud  to  Dimmie  from  a 
book  of  fairy  tales  and  Mrs.  Merwent  was  embroidering  some 
underwear  she  had  purchased  on  the  previous  day  in  con- 
sultation with  Miss  Powell.  As  John  entered  both  women 
ceased  their  employment. 

"Did  you  find  everything  all  right  at  the  office?"  Lucy  in- 
quired with  her  usual  simple  manner. 

"And  are  you  all  tired  out,  John?"  added  Nannie,  smiling 
at  him. 

"No,  I'm  not  tired,"  he  answered.  "I  was  worried,  that's 
all."  As  he  spoke,  he  seated  himself  and  lit  a  cigarette. 

"Don't  worry,  John,"  Lucy  said,  drawing  Dimmie  to  her 
side. 

"No,"  supplemented  Mrs.  Merwent.  "There's  nothing  to 
worry  about,  you  poor  boy." 

"Well,  I'm  glad  if  there  isn't."    He  drew  a  long  breath. 

"I'm  going  down  town  again  in  the  morning,"  Nannie  con- 
tinued a  moment  later.  "I  just  must  get  some  more  of  this 
lingerie.  It's  perfectly  lovely.  I'm  going  to  show  you  part 
of  what  I  bought  after  dinner,  John."  She  laughed  coquet- 
tishly. 

"Anyone  would  think  you  were  making  a  trousseau,"  he 
commented  jealously. 

Nannie  became  suddenly  serious. 

"No,  John.    Not  for  the  present,  at  least." 

There  was  a  brief  pause. 

"I  see  Carter's  are  selling  out.  You  might  add  to  your  col- 
lection there,  Mamma."  Lucy's  hands  moved  uneasily  over 
Dimmie's  hair  as  she  talked.  As  she  turned  toward  the 
child  the  light  falling  on  her  face  revealed  its  haggard  out- 
lines. 

No  one  responded  to  her  remark.  She  glanced  up  and 
caught  John's  gaze  fixed  on  her  mother.  He  drew  another 
sigh  of  evident  relief. 

"Do  you  know,"  he  began  with  something  of  his  old  ex- 


276  BLIND   MICE 

pansive  manner,  pushing  his  hair  back  from  his  forehead,  "I 
went  to  see  the  sculptures  of  that  new  Polish  artist  today  at 
lunch  time.  He  is  the  beginning  of  a  new  movement  away 
from  the  Rodin  worship  of  sex  and  emotion  in  art." 

"I  don't  think  they  ought  to  allow  some  statues  to  be  ex- 
hibited," declared  Nannie. 

"It  isn't  so  much  the  moral  or  ethical  objection  that  in- 
fluences me,"  John  elaborated,  "but,  as  I  have  said  before,  I 
don't  believe  in  the  emotional  and  literary  in  art.  The  artist's 
business  is  to  create  beauty,  not  to  comment  upon  it.  The 
public  is  intelligent  enough  to  understand  and  appreciate  real 
artistic  achievement,  without  tricks  to  call  their  attention  to 
it.  You  really  ought  to  see  the  exhibit,  Lucy." 

"I  should  like  to,"  said  Lucy  encouragingly. 

"And  I  too,"  seconded  Nannie. 

"Well,  well  all  go,"  he  proposed. 

John  talked  much  during  dinner.  When  it  was  over  and 
Lucy  had  accompanied  Dimmie  up  to  bed,  Nannie  turned  to 
John  sweetly. 

"I'll  sing  to  you  a  little,  John,"  she  suggested. 

"Yes,  Nannie,"  he  acquiesced.  He  stretched  his  arms  over 
his  head  in  a  gesture  of  well  being.  "I  feel  in  the  mood  for 
music  tonight,"  he  added  comfortably. 

Nannie  seated  herself  at  the  piano.  Lighting  a  cigarette, 
John  reclined  in  the  Morris  chair  beside  her. 

The  next  day  John  whistled  as  he  walked  to  the  station. 

"Good  morning,"  he  called  as  he  entered  the  office. 

Jim  was  bending  over  a  filing  case  and  looked  up  with 
slight  surprise. 

"Good  morning,"  he  said.  "How  is  everybody  at  your 
house?" 

"Oh,  everybody's  well,"  John  answered,  and,  picking  up  his 
mail,  began  to  whistle  again.  "Nannie  is  coming  down  town 
on  the  nine-thirty  to  do  some  shopping,"  he  observed  as  he 
was  opening  a  letter  a  moment  later. 

Jim  glanced  up  again,  but  was  silent. 

The  two  worked  on  without  further  conversation  until  about 
nine  o'clock,  when  Jim  rose.  He  reached  for  his  hat. 


BLIND   MICE  277 

'When  wiH  you  be  back?"  John  inquired,  tilting  his  chair 
toward  the  wall  and  opening  his  cigarette  case. 

"Not  till  after  lunch,"  Jim  informed  him.  "I'm  going 
several  places,  Layard's  among  them." 

On  reaching  the  street,  however,  Jim  boarded  a  car  from 
which  he  descended  near  the  station  that  was  the  terminus 
for  suburban  trains  from  Rosedene,  and  when  Mrs.  Merwent 
emerged  from  the  building  he  was  one  of  the  first  pedestrians 
she  encountered. 

"How  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Merwent?"  He  greeted  her  pleas- 
antly, raising  his  hat  as  he  spoke.  "Aren't  you  lost  in  this 
great  city  all  alone?" 

"Why,  how  do  you  do,  Mr.  Sprague?"  cooed  Nannie,  shak- 
ing hands.  "What  a  pleasant  surprise!  I  thought  you  were 
at  the  office  with  John." 

"I  was  until  a  few  minutes  ago,"  he  explained,  turning  and 
walking  beside  her.  "I'm  out  hunting  for  lath  and  cement 
now,  but  I'm  glad  to  have  run  across  you.  I've  been  wanting 
to  have  a  little  talk  with  you  for  a  long  time." 

"Yes?"  responded  Nannie,  scrutinizing  him  sharply  from 
under  her  hat. 

"Are  you  in  a  hurry  now?"  continued  Jim.  "Can't  I  take 
you  somewhere  where  we  can  sit  down  and  have  a  soft 
drink?" 

"Why,  thank  you,  Mr.  Sprague,"  she  declined,  "but  I  am 
rather  in  a  hurry.  I  am  anxious  to  get  back  to  Lucy,  you 
know.  She  depends  so  on  me,  and  just  now  she's  not  as 
well  as  usual." 

"Is  she  worse?"  Jim  half  halted. 

"No.  Just  about  as  usual."  Nannie  took  note  of  his  per- 
turbation. "I  think  the  summers  here  are  trying  on  her.  I 
wish  she  could  get  away  to  the  country  for  a  couple  of 
months." 

Jim  quickened  his  pace. 

"Well,  of  course  I  don't  want  to  detain  you,  Mrs.  Merwent, 
but  what  I  want  to  say  won't  take  more  than  ten  minutes. 
Suppose  we  walk  about  in  this  little  park  a  moment.  It's 
almost  empty  and  we'll  be  practically  alone." 


278  BLIND    MICE 

"Why,  Mr.  Sprague,"  Nannie  laughed  nervously,  "you  al- 
most frighten  me.  You  talk  like  a — conspirator!" 

"Don't  be  afraid.  I'm  not  dangerous.  Here,  let's  go  this 
way."  And  he  led  her  from  the  street  into  a  shady  promenade. 

Nannie,  hesitating  slightly  at  first,  smiled  and  conversed 
about  the  weather,  the  occasional  people  they  met  in  the  course 
of  their  walk,  and  other  irrelevant  topics. 

"Now  what  was  it  you  wanted  to  tell  me,  Mr.  Sprague?" 
she  insisted  suddenly  as  they  neared  the  center  of  the  park. 

"Well,  it  is  this,  Mrs.  Merwent.  I  am  going  to  Russell- 
ville." 

Nannie,  of  course,  could  not  change  her  artificial  color,  but 
her  eyes  and  mouth  opened  their  widest. 

"On  business  ?"  she  inquired  uncomfortably. 

"No.  I  am  going  to  see  Professor  Walsh,  and  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Sheldon,  and  Mr.  Blair,  and  Judge  Dodd,  and  several 
other  friends  of  yours." 

Nannie  sat  down  on  a  bench  by  the  path.  Jim  seated  him- 
self on  the  same  bench,  a  little  distance  from  her.  His  brown 
eyes  appeared  yellowish  in  the  sunlight  as  they  looked  straight 
into  hers. 

"Wha — what  for?"  she  faltered  in  a  voice  she  strove  in 
vain  to  control. 

"I  want  to  talk  to  them." 

"Why,  you  don't  know  any  of  them,"  objected  Mrs.  Mer- 
went perplexedly,  her  eyes  falling  before  his. 

"No.  But  I  shall  take  letters  of  introduction  from  Pro- 
fessor Walsh's  cousin  and  others — letters  which  will  enable 
me  to  know  them  and  to  have  their  confidence." 

"Professor  Walsh's  cousin?"  interrogated  Nannie,  her  voice 
unsteady.  "How  did  you  know  about  Professor  Walsh?  I 
never  heard  of  his  cousin.  Where  does  he  live?" 

"Here  in  Chicago." 

"Why,  Professor  Walsh  never  told  me,"  she  confessed 
blankly.  "He  never  even  said  he  had  a  relative  near  here. 
Who  is  he?" 

"He's  a  lawyer.  He  was  consultant  to  Mr.  Merwent's  at- 
torney in  the  divorce  case  against  you.  Professor  Walsh 
himself  gave  Mr.  Merwent  the  letter  of  introduction." 


BLIND    MICE  279 

Nannie's  eyes  opened  even  wider,  if  possible,  at  this. 

"But  what  are  you  going  for?  What  are  you  going  to 
do?"  she  continued. 

"I'm  going  to  talk  to  your  friends,  Mrs.  Merwent." 

"You're  trying  to  scare  me."  Nannie  made  a  feeble  at- 
tempt at  bravado.  "What  have  I  got  to  do  with  all  this  ?  You 
have  nothing  to  tell  my  friends  about  me." 

"Yes,  I  have,"  Jim  asserted  vigorously. 

"What?"  demanded  Mrs.  Merwent,  her  hands  shaking  as 
she  played  with  her  purse  and  parasol  handle. 

"I'm  going  to  ask  them,  especially  Professor  Walsh,  if  they 
approve  of  what  you  are  doing  to  your  daughter's  home." 

Nannie  gazed  at  him  defiantly. 

"What  am  I  doing?" 

"We  probably  shouldn't  agree  as  to  that,  Mrs.  Merwent, 
but  I  shall  give  them  my  version  of  it." 

Nannie  was  visibly  working  up  her  anger. 

"This  is  pure  spite,  Mr.  Sprague.  You  have  never  liked 
me,  because  I  saw  through  your  weakness  for  Lucy,  but  you 
can't  frighten  me.  I  suppose  she's  put  you  up  to  this !  I  can 
tell  my  story,  too,  and  we'll  see  who  comes  out  of  it  best." 

"Now,  you're  bluffing,  Mrs.  Merwent,  and  it  won't  go.  I 
am  quite  ready  to  believe  that  you  would  befoul  your  daugh- 
ter's name  to  try  to  clear  yourself,  but  you  know  as  well  as 
I  do  that  it  wouldn't  save  you.  In  any  case  your  daughter 
could  not  possibly  be  in  a  worse  situation  than  she  is,  and, 
if  you  want  war,  we'll  leave  it  to  your  friends  and  hers  to 
decide.  She  hasn't  the  slightest  idea  that  I  am  doing  this. 
I  think  that's  all  I  wanted  to  say,  Mrs.  Merwent."  And  Jim 
rose. 

"Have  you  written  to  Professor  Walsh?"  inquired  Nannie 
weakly. 

"Not  yet,"  Jim  admitted  grimly. 

"It  will  be  a  fine  thing  for  a  man  to  do,  going  around  talk- 
ing about  a  woman  behind  her  back!" 

"We  won't  discuss  that,  Mrs.  Merwent." 

"I  don't  know — I  don't  understand  what  you  mean  by  all 
this,  Mr.  Sprague.  One  thing  is  sure,  I  shall  tell  Lucy  and 
John  about  your  threats." 


280  BLIND   MICE 

"Do !"  Jim  dared,  turning  to  go. 

"Wait  a  minute,  Mr.  Sprague."  Nannie  was  staring  about 
aimlessly  in  every  direction.  "I — I  don't  know  how  long  I 
shall  stay  in  Chicago.  Of  course  your  insinuations  are  ridicu- 
lous, but  I  hate  to  hurt  Lucy's  feelings,  especially  when  she 
is  already  in  such  a  nervous  state,  and  make  trouble  between 
you  and  John.  So  far  as  I  am  concerned  you  could  go  to 
Russellville  every  day,  but  Lucy  is  very  dear  to  me.  She  is 
my  only  child.  If  you  made  trouble  for  me  remember  it 
would  involve  her."  As  Mrs.  Merwent  stared  at  Jim  tears 
rose  to  her  eyes  but  they  did  not  altogether  veil  her  look  of 
hate  and  bafflement. 

"I'm  not  going  for  a  week,  Mrs.  Merwent,"  Jim  told  her 
inexorably.  Then,  raising  his  hat,  he  left  her  sitting  on  the 
bench. 

Inlthe  station,  before  taking  the  Rosedene  train,  Mrs.  Mer- 
went lingered  for  twenty  minutes  or  more  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  the  telegraph  office.  Finally,  with  sudden  decision 
she  approached  the  desk  and  dispatched  a  message. 


XXXI 

When  Nannie  alighted  from  the  train  at  Rosedene  she 
walked  up  the  street  to  the  Winters'  house  with  a  more  rapid 
stride  than  was  her  custom,  and  showed  signs  of  nervousness 
and  impatience  while  she  waited  for  Katy  to  open  the  front 
door. 

Entering  the  hall,  she  almost  ran  up  the  stairs.  In  her  room 
she  removed  her  gloves  but  left  her  hat  on,  and,  without 
even  glancing  in  the  mirror,  sat  down  to  write  a  letter. 

The  missive  was  quickly  finished  and  addressed  to  Pro- 
fessor Walsh.  She  then  took  up  her  gloves  once  more  and 
descended  to  the  street,  dropping  the  envelope  in  the  nearest 
post  box.  After  noting  the  time  of  the  next  mail  collection, 
she  returned  slowly  to  the  house. 

Katy  appeared  somewhat  surprised  at  being  summoned  to 
the  door  by  Mrs.  Merwent  a  second  time.  Nannie  made  no 
remark. 

On  reaching  her  room  she  now  removed  hat  and  gloves 
and  carefully  touched  up  her  rouge,  washed  her  hands,  and 
repolished  her  nails. '  Making  her  way  to  the  dining  room  she 
encountered  Lucy. 

"You're  back  early,  Mamma,"  Lucy  commented  when  she 
saw  Nannie.  "Did  you  get  the  undenvear  you  wanted  ?" 

"No,"  sighed  her  mother  sadly.  "It  was  all  gone  when  I 
got  to  the  store,  so  I  came  right  back."  She  stared  at  Lucy's 
hair,  which  was  arranged  with  more  care  than  usual,  and  at 
the  white  organdie  dress  which  was  only  donned  occasionally. 
"You  must  be  expecting  Mr.  Sprague  out  tonight,  Lucy," 
she  gibed,  viciously.  "Well,  don't  accuse  me  of  being  the  only 
one  weak  enough  to  care  about  my  looks." 

"I  don't,  Mamma."  There  was  a  barely  perceptible  tremor 
in  Lucy's  voice,  but  her  manner  was  as  calm  and  unswerving 
as  ever. 

281 


282  BLIND   MICE 

Mrs.  Merwent  walked  to  the  window  and  stood  gazing  at 
the  gnarled  elm  tree  and  Dimmie's  dangling  swing.  She 
passed  her  hand  over  her  forehead  several  times  and  tapped 
her  foot  uneasily  on  the  floor. 

"Don't  you  feel  well?"  Lucy  inquired  at  last. 

Nannie  turned  and  her  eyes  were  full  of  tears. 

"Oh,  Lucy,"  she  cried  piteously,  "you  haven't  meant  all 
the  terrible  things  you've  said,  have  you?  We've  got  nobody 
in  the  world  but  each  other,  and — it  hurts  me  so  for  there 
to  be  any  kind  of  hard  feelings !" 

Lucy  hesitated  only  an  instant. 

"I  don't  think  there  are  any  hard  feelings,  Mamma,"  she 
replied.  Her  voice  was  low.  Her  eyes  rested  on  Dimmie, 
who  was  looking  at  a  picture  book  as  he  lay  stretched  on  his 
stomach  on  the  floor  beside  her. 

Nannie  cume  over  and  knelt  by  her  daughter. 

"Kiss  me,  Lucy!  Oh,  Lucy,  I  couldn't  bear  to  go  away 

so  misjudged  and "  Mrs.  Merwent  broke  off  her  speech 

with  a  half  sob. 

Dimmie,  laying  aside  his  book,  sat  up  and  regarded  the  two 
with  interest. 

"You  aren't  going  away,  Mamma,"  Lucy  said,  trying  to 
make  her  tone  matter  of  fact,  and  at  the  same  time  sub- 
mitting to  her  mother's  kiss.  Her  breast  heaved  and  two 
vivid  spots  of  color  tinged  her  cheeks. 

"Oh,  Lucy,  you  don't  want  me  to  go !  Say  you  don't  want 
me  to  go !"  Nannie  implored. 

"Why,  no-o,  Mamma,"  Lucy  answered  reluctantly,  moisten- 
ing her  lips.  "I  thought  that  was  all  settled,"  she  added.  "I 

didn't  know  that "  She  stopped  speaking  and  regarded 

her  mother  with  eager  surprise. 

Nannie  rose  to  her  feet. 

"I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  go.  Of  course  I'm  glad 
you'll  miss  me,  and  I  shall  leave  without  any  hard  feelings. 

But  I've  been  so  misunderstood,  and  now  that  I "  She 

clasped  and  unclasped  her  hands. 

"But  where  can  you  go?  You  can't  go  back  to  Cousin 
Minnie."  Lucy's  tone  was  strange.  She  caressed  Dimmie's 
hair  with  trembling  fingers  and  avoided  her  mother's  glance. 


BLIND    MICE  283 

"No,  Lucy.  I  certainly  couldn't  accept  Minnie  Sheldon's 
charity  again,  after  the  way  she  has  treated  me." 

Lucy  stood  up  too.  Her  eyes  were  very  bright.  Involun- 
tarily she  put  one  hand  on  her  bosom.  Nannie  watched  her. 

"Oh,  Lucy,  I  want  to  be  loved !  I  want  to  be  loved !"  Nan- 
nie protested  suddenly,  dissolving  into  tears  again. 

Placing  one  arm  about  her  mother's  shoulders,  Lucy's  eyes 
sought  Dimmie  across  Nannie's  bent  head. 

"So  do  I,"  she  murmured  fervently,  almost  as  if  to  herself. 

"What  makes  you  look  so  nice?"  Dimmie  asked  Lucy  sud- 
denly. 

Mrs.  Merwent  lifted  her  head. 

"You're  not  glad  I'm  going  away !  Oh,  Jimmie,  you  don't 
want  Nannie  to  go,  do  you  ?" 

He  jumped  up  and  ran  to  her. 

"When  Nannie  goes  away  on  the  cars,  do  you  want  to  go 
with  her?  I've  got  some  more  chocolate  drops  upstairs,"  she 
whispered. 

"You  bet  I  would !"  he  replied  enthusiastically.  "Where  are 
they?" 

"Don't  give  him  candy  just  before  meals,  Mamma,"  Lucy  re- 
quested gently. 

"Oh,  it  won't  hurt  this  time.  I'm  going  upstairs  and  I'll 
get  them." 

"I'm  so  afraid  it'll  make  him  sick,"  remonstrated  Lucy. 
"Here,  Son,  wait  till  after  dinner.  Don't  eat  them  now.  Be 
a  good  boy." 

"No,"  returned  Dimmie  rebelliously,  backing  away  from  his 
mother.  "I  want  'em  now.  Please  get  'em,  Nannie." 

"We  must  mind  Mamma  or  she'll  be  angry.  Because  I'm 
going  away,  you  know,  Jimmie.  Wait  a  minute,  dear.  Din- 
ner'll  soon  be  ready,  and  I'll  take  you  on  the  train  with  me  if 
you're  a  good  boy." 

Dimmie  compromised  without  further  parley. 

When  John  arrived  Lucy  greeted  him  with  suppressed  ex- 
citement, but  he  seemed  to  observe  nothing  unusual.  Dinner 
was  served.  Nannie  entered  the  dining  room  smiling  mourn- 
fully, and  placed  a  rose  at  his  plate. 

"Did  you  get  your  shopping  done  ?"  he  queried. 


284  BLIND   MICE 

"No,"  she  responded.  "I  didn't  get  what  I  wanted  and 
came  back  early." 

After  a  few  moment's  silence  John  laid  down  his  knife  and 
fork. 

"What's  the  matter,  Nannie?  You're  not  eating  anything," 
he  commented. 

"Mamma  ain't  eatin'  nothin'  neither,"  observed  Dimmie. 

"Yes,  I  am."    Lucy  hastily  took  up  her  knife  and  fork. 

"Why,  I'm  eating  as  much  as  usual,  John."  Nannie  re- 
sumed her  meal.  "You  know  I  never  eat  very  heartily.  Did 
you  have  a  hard  day  at  the  office?" 

"No,  indeed,"  John  declared.  "I'm  feeling  fine.  When 
shall  we  go  and  see  the  sculptures  ?" 

Mrs.  Merwent  was  neglecting  her  food  again,  and  seemed 
not  to  hear.  She  wiped  her  eyes  furtively. 

"Why  don't  you  answer,  Nannie?"  he  insisted  reproach- 
fully. "I  asked  you  when  you  wanted  to  go  and  see  the 
sculptures.  And  you  aren't  eating  again.  What's  the  matter? 
Are  you  dreaming?" 

"No,  John,"  she  sighed,  "I'm  not  dreaming.  What  was  it 
you  said?" 

John  glanced  from  Nannie  to  Lucy  and  frowned. 

"When  do  you  want  to  go  and  see  the  sculptures  I  spoke 
of?"  he  repeated  with  less  enthusiasm. 

"Why — I  don't  know.  Let's  see When  had  you 

father  go,  Lucy  ?" 

"Any  day  that  is  convenient  for  John." 

"Well,  let's  see "  Nannie  regarded  her  plate  abstract- 
edly. 

"Would  day  after  tomorrow  do?"  suggested  John,  still  cov- 
ertly scrutinizing  the  two  women. 

"Why,  yes — let's  see — day  after  tomorrow "  Mrs. 

'Merwent's  eyes  and  voice  trailed  off  into  space  again. 

"I'll  declare,  Nannie,"  remarked  John  with  some  irritation, 
"you  act  as  though  you  were  a  thousand  miles  away.  Are 
you  worried  about  anything?" 

"No-o.     That  is — nothing  in  particular,"  she  amended. 

"Well,  then,  shall  we  settle  on  day  after  tomorrow?" 

"Why,  yes,  day  after  tomorrow  will  suit  me." 


BLIND    MICE  285 

> 

"Well,  then,  you  two  come  down  to  the  office  after  lunch 
and  we'll  go."  John  took  up  his  fork  again. 

The  door  bell  rang  and  Katy  came  from  the  hall  with  a 
telegram  in  her  hand.  Nannie  reached  for  it,  but  John,  un- 
aware of  her  motion,  took  the  envelope  from  the  servant.  He 
read  the  address  and  passed  it  across  the  table. 

"It's  for  you,  Nannie." 

"Thank  you."  She  dropped  the  envelope  in  her  plate  and 
picked  it  up  again. 

"Why  don't  you  read  it  ?" 

"I  don't  like  telegrams!"  interjected  Lucy.  "I'm  afraid 
of  them.  Maybe  something's  the  matter  with  Cousin  Minnie." 

"Nonsense!"  ejaculated  John.  "It's  probably  something 
very  simple.  Read  it  and  see.  Where  is  it  from?" 

"It's  from  R-Russellville,"  Nannie  stammered,  opening  it 
with  uncertain  movements  and  tearing  the  message  half  across 
in  the  process. 

"What  does  it  say?    Is  anybody  sick?"  Lucy  queried. 

"Who  is  it  from?"  insisted  John. 

"It's — it's  from — it's  from  Professor  Walsh,"  Mrs.  Mer- 
went  informed  them  unsteadily,  reading  the  telegram. 

"What's  the  matter  with  him?"  sneered  John. 

"Why,  he — you  know  he — his  interest  in  me "  Nannie 

began  with  a  changed  air  of  mingled  relief  and  importance. 

"Does  he  have  to  send  telegrams  to  tell  you  about  it?"  de- 
manded John  contemptuously.  "Can't  he  wait  for  the  mails  ? 
He's  gotten  along  with  letters  pretty  well,  so  far!" 

Lucy  was  observing  her  mother  strangely. 

"He's  been  trying  his  best  for  weeks  and  weeks  to  get  me 
to  say  when — when — to  name — to  decide "  Nannie  hesi- 
tated, regarding  John  beseechingly. 

"To  name  the  day,  eh!"  snorted  John,  ignoring  the  look 
intended  for  him. 

Lucy  sat  tense  in  her  chair. 

"Yes,  John,"  Nannie  spoke  almost  apologetically,  "that's 
what  he  wants.  He — he's  very  persistent.  He  wants  me  to 
come  to  Russellville  at  once." 

"Humph !  It's  a  funny  notion  to  get  all  of  a  sudden.  He's 
been  patient  enough  until  now." 


286  BLIND   MICE 

"John !"    Mrs.  Merwent's  voice  quavered. 

His  glance  encountered  hers  reluctantly. 

Lucy  was  the  personification  of  palpitating  expectation. 
The  color  flamed  in  her  cheeks  and  her  eyes  were  like  scintil- 
lating stars. 

"When  do  you  think  you  will  go,  Mamma?"  she  asked,  tak- 
ing Dimmie's  hand  in  hers  and  leaning  forward  as  she  spoke. 

"Why,  I  don't  know.    I "  Nannie  began  evasively. 

John  watched  Lucy  an  instant.  Becoming  aware  of  his 
scrutiny,  she  turned  her  head  and  their  glances  met.  John's 
lip  curled. 

"Well,  I'll  be  damned!"  he  exclaimed,  throwing  down  his 
napkin  and  pushing  his  chair  back  from  the  table. 

Lucy  said  nothing,  but  the  color  left  her  face.  Her  grip 
on  Dimmie's  hand  tightened.  John  rose. 

"Of  all  the  contemptible  scheming  and  plotting!  If  you 
were  determined  to  insult  your  mother  why  did  you  have  to 
do  it  behind  my  back?  If  we  have  to  fight,  let  us  at  least 
be  decent  about  it,  and  fight  in  the  open!"  John's  tone  was 
scathing  and  with  each  word  his  voice  reached  a  higher  pitch. 
He  stared  at  Lucy  scornfully. 

"What  do  you  mean,  John?"  she  began  in  a  bewildered 
manner.  Then  she  exclaimed  indignantly,  "Oh,  how  dare 
you!"  She  rose.  One  hand  still  clutched  Dimmie. 

"Now,  John,  Lucy  didn't  mean "  Nannie,  showing  her 

fright,  spoke  soothingly. 

"Oh,  I  know,  Nannie!  'Lucy  didn't  mean!'  She  don't 
want  you  out  of  the  house,  I  suppose !  She  hasn't  been  driving 
you  and  me  half  crazy  ever  since  you  came  with  her.  suspicions 
and  jealousy !" 

"Remember  what  I  told  you,  John  Winter!"  Lucy  warned, 
her  eyes  steely. 

"Oh,  I'll  remember!"  John's  gaze  was  lowered  for  an  in- 
stant. Then  his  ire  came  to  the  aid  of  his  courage.  "I'll 
remember,  but  you  can't  threaten  me  into  forgetting  my  self 
respect!"  he  declared  defiantly. 

"I  don't  know  what  you  are  talking  about.  The  news  that 
Mamma  was  going  was  as  much  a  surprise  to  me  as  it  was 
to  you." 


287 

"John "    Nannie  went  no  further. 

"Oh,  I  know  you  didn't  have  anything  to  do  with  the  tele- 
gram, but  that  doesn't  alter  what  I  say."  He  glared  at  Lucy. 
"I  saw  how  you  were  looking  at  Nannie,  as  if  you  could 
hardly  wait  for  the  moment  to  come  when  you  could  get  her 
out  of  the  house !" 

"Now,  John,  surely  when  I'm  willing  to  forgive  Lucy " 

Nannie's  air  was  soft  and  uncertain. 

"Come,  Dimmie!"  Lucy  almost  jerked  the  whimpering  child 
from  his  chair,  and,  holding  his  hand,  led  him  into  the  kitchen. 

She  left  her  own  yard  by  the  gate  which  adjoined  Dr. 
Hamilton's  premises. 

"Come  right  in,  Mrs.  Winter,"  Mrs.  Hamilton's  maid-of-all 
work  greeted  them  at  the  back  door.  "Mrs.  Hamilton  is  in  the 
dining  room."  And  the  girl  led  Lucy  through  the  kitchen. 

"May  I  come  in?"  petitioned  Lucy  in  an  unsteady  voice  at 
the  threshold  of  the  dining  room. 

"Dear  me,  yes,"  Mrs.  Hamilton  said  encouragingly. 

She  was  rocking  Stella  to  sleep  and  did  not  rise  but  held 
out  her  hand.  Lucy  seized  it. 

"I  just  wanted  to  sit  with  you  a  little  while,  Mrs.  Hamilton." 

"I'm  so  glad  you  came."  Mrs.  Hamilton  reached  her  un- 
occupied arm  around  Stella  and  patted  Lucy's  hand.  "Draw 
up  the  other  rocking  chair.  The  Doctor  is  out  on  another 
maternity  case  and  I'm  all  alone  again.  I  was  thinking  about 
you.  How  is  your  mother?" 

Without  answering,  Lucy  placed  a  rocking  chair  near  Mrs. 
Hamilton  and  took  Dimmie  into  her  lap. 

As  soon  as  she  and  John  were  alone,  Mrs.  Merwent,  who 
had  risen  also  during  the  altercation  between  John  and  Lucy, 
reseated  herself  at  the  table  in  silence  and  wiped  her  eyes 
with  her  handkerchief. 

"Won't  you  sit  down,  John  ?"  she  urged  compassionately. 

Without  speaking,  he  complied.  He  lighted  another  ciga- 
rette and,  when  Katy  entered,  asked  for  a  second  cup  of 
coffee. 

"Is  Mrs.  Winter  in  the  kitchen?"  Nannie  inquired  of  the 
negress. 


288  BLIND    MICE 

"No,  Miss  Nannie.  She  done  went  out  de  back  way.  I 
'specs  she's  over  to  Mis'  Hamilton's." 

"Oh,  John,  if  there  was  anything  else  I  could  do  I  wouldn't 
need  to  leave  you,"  faltered  Nannie  sadly  after  Katy  had 
returned  to  the  kitchen.  "I  was  driven  to  this  because  Lucy 
has  made  no  other  course  possible!" 

"Driven  to  it !"  echoed  John  savagely.  "Lucy's  got  nothing 
to  say  about  it !  What  did  you  say  to  make  that  fellow  send 
you  such  a  telegram?" 

"Nothing,  John."  Nannie  gazed  at  him  with  swimming 
eyes.  He  rumpled  his  hair  viciously.  "You  dear  boy,"  she 
murmured  with  tears  in  her  voice. 

John  look  at  her  sceptically.    His  lip  quivered  slightly. 

"Really,  didn't  you  fix  this  thing  up,  Nannie?"  he  asked 
with  a  wounded,  distrustful  air.  "I  never  believed  you'd 
lead  me  on  into  thinking  things  were  getting  better  while  you 

were  planning  to "  He  could  say  no  more.  He  crumpled 

his  napkin  into  a  ball  and  turned  his  face  away,  placing  one 
hand  to  his  eyes. 

"John !"  Nannie  reproached,  "do  you  suppose  it's  been  easy 
for  me  to  seem  lighthearted  when  I  realized  that  I  must  give 
up — so  much — that  which  means  so  much  to  me?" 

"Then  why  not  cut  it  out?  You  must  cut  it  out!  It's 
absurd!  It's  ridiculous!  I  won't  believe  it.  Why  only  this 

morning I  don't  see  how  you  can  torture  me  like  this, 

Nannie.  You  know  you've  come  here  to  stay  with  us  always. 
Why  you're  a  part  of  my  home — part  of  my  life,  Nannie! 
Do  you  think  I'm  going  to  submit  to  all  this  tamely,  to  please 
Lucy!  She'll  find  out  I'm  not  the  weak,  soft  proposition  she 
imagines.  We'll  fight  it  out  and  see  who's  running  things 
in  this  house.  Never  you  fear,  Nannie,  I  won't  have  you 
shoved  out  in  the  street.  We'll  stand  together  and  Lucy  can 
rant  and  rave  all  she  pleases.  By  God,  I  won't  have  it!  I'll 
fight  it  to  the  last  ditch !  You're  her  own  mother,  and  if  she 
doesn't  realize  that  she  owes  anything  to  you,  /  do,  and  I'll 
make  her— make  her  stand  up  to  her  obligations  whether  she 
wants  to  or  not.  She'll  either  accept  my  standards  in  this 
household  or — if  she's  going  to  have  me  she's  got  to — I'm 
the  master  here  whether  she  likes  it  or  not!  She  evidently 


BLIND   MICE  289 

thought  when  she  married  me  that  I  was  a  man  without  any 
backbone,  exactly  the  opposite  of  Jim  Sprague!  I'll  show 
her !  I'll  show  her,  I  tell  you !  She  shan't  tear  you  away  from 
me,  Nannie!  She "  Almost  inarticulate  with  angry  emo- 
tion, he  was  striding  up  and  down  the  room.  He  halted  near 
Nannie's  chair,  clenching  and  unclenching  his  fists  as  he 
stared  away  from  her. 

"John,  dear,"  Nannie's  voice  was  subdued,  "we  must  talk 
reasonably." 

He  snorted. 

"I  suppose  that  means  bend  to  Lucy's  will!"  he  interjected 
bitterly. 

Nannie  was  patient. 

"No,  dear.  But  don't  you  see,  John,  what  staying  under 
the  circumstances  would  mean?  It  puts  me  in  a  position — 
Lucy  will  stop  at  nothing,  John.  I  think  she's  capable  of 

making  us  trouble  with  other  people.  I've — I've "  Here 

Nannie  looked  at  the  floor,  embarrassed.  "I've  heard  her  go 
so  far  as  to  hint  that  she'd  write  to  Cousin  Minnie  and  Pro- 
fessor Walsh  and — and  old  friends  of  the  family  like  Judge 
Dodd  and  other  people!" 

"Professor  Walsh!"  John  almost  roared.  "Let  her  write 
to  Professor  Walsh !  I'll  go  to  Russellville  and  break  his  neck 
if  necessary!" 

"I  know,  John,"  Nannie  was  fearful  now,  "but  that 
wouldn't  save  me,  if  slurs  were  cast  on  my — my  reputation. 
I'm  a  misjudged  woman,  John,  and  after  Arthur's  heartless- 
ness  has  placed  me  in  such  a  false  position  I  can't  afford  to 
risk  such  a  thing." 

John  regarded  her  undecidedly. 

"Don't  you  think  I'm  able  to  take  care  of  you,  Nannie?" 
he  asked  in  a  trembling  voice. 

"You  would  do  all  you  could,  John,"  Nannie's  voice  broke 
too,  "but  some  things  are  beyond  your  power." 

"And  do  you  mean  to  say  that  we  have  to  submit  to  this 
because  Lucy  has  the  drop  on  us — that  we  can't  stop  her 
from  stooping  to  a  lot  of  underhand  lying?"  he  demanded, 
defiance  in  his  tone. 

"Remember  she's  done  none  of  this,"  Nannie  continued 


BLIND    MICE 

hastily.  "It's  only,"  again  she  looked  away  from  him,  "that 
certain  things  she's  said  have  made  me  afraid  she  might. 
Anyway — now  it's  all  arranged " 

Katy  came  in  to  clear  the  table  and  Nannie  led  the  way 
into  the  living  room. 

"Don't  turn  on  the  light,"  John  objected  peevishly  as  she 
moved  toward  the  electric  switch. 

They  seated  themselves  in  the  dim  radiance  that  filtered  in 
from  the  hall. 

"Nannie,  you've  got  to  give  it  up,"  he  repeated  suddenly. 
"Put  it  off  for  a  month  or  two  anyway,"  he  begged  unsteadily. 

"If  Lucy  were  different!  Oh,  John,  if  Lucy  only 
would "  She  took  one  of  his  hands  in  both  of  hers. 

John's  fist  clenched. 

"I  won't  forget  what  she's  done  to  us  in^a  hurry!"  he 
cried,  glancing  away  from  Nannie  as  he  spoke.  There  was 
a  cruel  edge  to  his  tone. 

"It's  her  abnormal  state.  Oh,  you  poor,  dear  boy !  And  to 
think  you  must  bear  all  this  and  that  I  can't  do  anything 
to  ease  your  burden!  I  saw  this  coming,  John,  and  I  didn't 
dare  to  tell  you  what  she  was  forcing  me  to."  Nannie  talked 
hurriedly.  Half  sobs  broke  in  on  her  words. 

John  bent  forward  and  leaned  his  brow  against  the  hands 
that  held  his  own.  There  was  a  long  pause. 

"How  long  ago  did  you  decide  this  ?"  he  demanded,  looking 
up  suddenly  and  pressing  her  fingers  so  that  she  winced. 

"I've  been  trying  to  decide  a  long  time,  John.  You  don't 
know  all  Lucy  says  to  me  when  you're  away.  I  made  up  my 
mind  definitely  a — a  few  days  ago.  The  telegram  really  has 
nothing  to  do  with  it,  though  I  half  expected  from  what  Pro- 
fessor Walsh  had  written  that  he  would  send  one." 

"When  are  you  going?"  John  went  on  with  painful  in- 
tensity. 

"It's  better  for  me  to  go  right  away,  dear.  I  think  I'll  leave 
day  after  tomorrow." 

John  withdrew  his  hand  and  clasped  his  bowed  head. 

"Day  after  tomorrow !"  he  repeated,  almost  groaning.  "The 
day  we  were  to  see  the  sculptures!"  He  laughed  bitterly. 

"Don't,  John,"  begged  Nannie.     "You  frighten  me." 


BLIND    MICE 

Again  the  two  became  silent. 

"If  only  you  weren't  the  one  to  suffer!"  Nannie  exclaimed 
at  last.  "There  is  so  much  in  our  lives  that  is  the  same!" 

"Yes,  Nannie." 

"Your  attitude  toward  Lucy  is  so  noble,  John !  She  doesn't 
realize  how  much  she  has  to  be  thankful  for  in  your  forbear- 
ance. Oh,  John,  to  think  that  I  should  be  in  any  way  re- 
.sponsible,  even  innocently,  for  ruining  your  life !" 

"You're  not  responsible  for  what  Lucy  does,  Nannie." 

"Oh,  John,  perhaps  later " 

"Yes,  yes!"  he  said  eagerly. 

"Maybe  Lucy  won't  always  be  so  strange  and  exacting." 

Another  pause. 

"Nannie !"  John's  voice  was  smothered  and  his  breath  came 
quickly.  "If  you'll  only  cut  out  that  talk  about  marrying! 
I  can  stand  anything  but  that!  I  can't  stand  it,  Nannie.  I 
can't  stand  it !  Say  you're  not  going  to  be  married,  Nannie  ?" 

She  did  not  answer  at  once. 

"Not — right  away,  at  least,  dear  boy,"  she  conceded  finally, 
stroking  his  hair  with  her  free  hand. 

John  lifted  his  head  and  sighed  deeply. 

"Well,  Nannie,  if  you  really  think  it's  for  the  best,  I  sup- 
pose you'll  have  to  go,  for  the  present,  at  least,"  he  resumed 
in  a  different  tone. 

"Don't  you  want  me  to  sing  to  you  now,  John?"  Nannie 
offered,  smiling  bravely.  "I'll  be  too  tired  tomorrow  night." 

"Yes,  sing  to  me." 

Nannie  sang  Ouvrez  tes  yeux. 

When  Dr.  Hamilton  reached  home  he  found  Lucy  and 
Dimmie  still  there.  Dimmie  was  sound  asleep.  At  Lucy's 
request  the  Doctor  picked  the  little  boy  up  and  carried  him 
through  the  back  way  to  the  Winter  home,  delivering  him 
into  his  mother's  arms  at  the  kitchen  door. 

Lucy  entered  the  house  softly.  As  she  mounted  the  stairs 
with  her  burden  she  saw  John  and  Nannie  in  the  living  room. 
They  did  not  observe  her  and  she  did  not  make  her  presence 
known. 

It  was  late  when  they  followed  her.  John  found  her  door 
locked.  All  was  dark  and  quiet.  He  slept  in  Jim's  room. 


XXXII 

"Shall  I  stay  at  home  and  help  you  with  your  trunks  ?"  John 
offered  at  breakfast.  He  seemed  depressed  and  addressed 
his  remarks  only  to  Nannie. 

"No,  thank  you,  John,"  she  replied.  She  gazed  at  him 
sympathetically.  As  a  concession  to  unwontedly  early  rising 
she  wore  a  beribboned  negligee  and  a  boudoir  cap  that  was 
very  becoming.  "It's  so  good  and  thoughtful  of  you  to  offer, 
but  I  can  pack  my  things  very  well  alone.  But  you  mustn't 
forget  to  send  the  express  man  out  early  this  evening,  for 
I  don't  want  any  doubt  about  the  baggage  going  on  the  same 
train  with  me." 

The  two  spoke  as  though  they  were  alone.  A  perfect  under- 
standing seemed  to  exist  between  them.  Lucy  did  not  make 
a  comment. 

"Well,  I'll  go  to  the  office,  then,"  he  decided,  rising. 

"It's  time  for  you  to  get  ready,  Dimmie."  Lucy  turned  to 
the  little  boy  who  sat  beside  her. 

"Let  him  stay  at  home  today,  Lucy,"  proposed  Mrs.  Mer- 
went. 

"Why,  he  oughtn't  to  miss  a  day,"  Lucy  objected. 

"Very  well,  if  you  dislike  my  seeing  him  my  last  day  here!" 
Nannie  assumed  her  most  aggrieved  air. 

"Let  him  stay,"  John  ordered  shortly. 

"All  right,"  acquiesced  Lucy  without  further  discussion. 

Nannie  followed  John  to  the  front  door  where  they  held  a 
whispered  colloquy.  When  he  had  gone  she  went  upstairs 
to  begin  her  packing. 

"Lucy!"  she  called  after  a  few  minutes. 

Lucy  came  into  the  bedroom. 

"Will  you  help  me  fold  these  things  ?  I  can't  do  everything 
alone." 

"Of  course,"  Lucy  responded  impassively,  beginning  to  ar- 

292 


BLIND   MICE  293 

range  the  garments  indicated.  "Where  do  you  want  them  put?" 

"Well,  wait  a  minute.  Give  me  time  to  turn  around.  Not 
that  way,  Lucy !  If  you're  going  to  mix  things  all  up,  you'd 
better  leave  it  for  me  to  do."  Mrs.  Merwent's  tone  showed 
increasing  irritation.  "I  might  have  known  you  couldn't  bear 
to  do  anything  for  me.  I  ought  to  have  learned  that  much 
this  summer.  I've  learned  several  other  things." 

"Tell  me  how  you  want  them  done,  and  I'll  do  my  best  to 
please  you."  Lucy's  manner  was  still  composed. 

"Oh,  don't  try  to  be  a  martyr  at  this  late  hour,  Lucy!" 
snapped  Nannie.  "It's  too  transparent.  You've  gotten  rid 
of  me  and  so  you  can  afford  to  be  saintly  about  it.  Your  Mr. 
Sprague  was  very  clever  but  I  understand  perfectly  well  now 
why  you  went  to  consult  him." 

"I  haven't  the  faintest  idea  what  you  mean."  Lucy  gazed 
blankly  at  her  mother. 

"Oh,  no !  Of  course  you  haven't !  You  know  a  great  deal 
better  than  I  do.  You  needn't  lie  to  me." 

Lucy  seemed  scarcely  to  heed. 

"Let's  not  quarrel  the  last  day  we  are  together,"  she  said  in 
a  low  voice. 

"No,  'let's  not  quarrel/  "  mocked  Nannie.  "Let's  sit  here 
and  have  you  crow  over  me." 

"How  am  I  crowing  over  you?"  Lucy  inquired  almost  list- 
lessly. 

"You  know  just  as  well  as  I  do,"  accused  Mrs.  Merwent. 
"If  you  think  I  haven't  seen  through  the  scheme  you  and 
your  Mr.  Sprague  have  worked  from  the  very  beginning, 
you're  greatly  mistaken.  But  let  me  tell  you  one  thing,  Lucy. 
You  haven't  got  as  much  to  feel  jubilant  over  as  you  think 
you  have." 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  reiterated  Lucy. 

"Well,  you'll  see  what  I  mean." 

"You're  right  that  I  have  nothing  to  feel  jubilant  over." 
Lucy  lifted  spiritless  eyes  to  her  mother's  face.  Nannie  turned 
away. 

The  two  women  worked  for  some  time  in  silence. 

"Here,  you  pack  these  wash  things  in  the  bottom  of  the 
other  trunk  I  want  to  go  over  my  laces  and  see  if  they're  all 


294  BLIND    MICE 

here,"  instructed  Nannie  at  length.  "I  suppose  Mr.  Sprague 
will  begin  to  come  out  here  twice  a  week  to  spend  the  night 
again,  as  soon  as  I've  left." 

"Please  don't  talk  about  Mr.  Sprague,"  requested  Lucy 
dully,  beginning  the  work  her  mother  had  ordered. 

Nannie's  expression  was  virtuous. 

"Yes !  I  should  think  you'd  be  ashamed  to  talk  about  him," 
she  remarked  reprovingly. 

"I'm  not  ashamed  of  anything,"  Lucy's  voice  gained  involun- 
tary vehemence,  "but  if  you  intend  talking  like  this  I'm  going 
out  of  the  house." 

"Oh,  it's  not  necessary,  Lucy.  It's  not  necessary.  I'm  going 
out  of  the  house  tomorrow,  and  if  you  want  me  to  I  can  go 
today.  I'll  go  down  town  and  stay  at  a  hotel  as  soon  as  my 
baggage  is  ready." 

Lucy  continued  to  pack  in  silence  for  several  minutes. 

"Not  that  way,  Lucy.  I  showed  you  once  how  I  wanted 
them  folded,"  complained  Mrs.  Merwent,  interrupting  the 
work  with  an  impatient  gesture. 

"I'm  doing  the  best  I  can." 

"That's  right!  Lose  your  temper.  One  would  think  we 
might  get  along  without  a  fuss  for  one  day,  especially  as  I'm 
going  away  for  I  don't  know  how  long." 

"I'm  not  quarreling." 

"No,  but  you're  so  hard,  Lucy.  You  don't  seem  to  have  a 
grain  of  affection  in  your  heart." 

"I  don't  think  I'm  the  only  one  who's  hard." 

"Why  can't  you  be  like  you  used  to  before  you  left  home? 
I  do  long  for  a  little  affection  sometimes.  You're  my  only 
child,  and  I've  tried  so  hard."  Nannie  ceased  her  occupation 
in  order  to  wipe  her  eyes.  "But  you  are  so  cold  and  hostile! 
Every  trifling  thing  is  an  excuse  for  getting  angry  and  hurting 
me."  Sitting  by  the  trunk,  Mrs.  Merwent  began  to  weep. 
"Oh,  Lucy,  you  are  so  ungrateful.  I  overlooked  all  the  past 
and  came  here,  and — and  you've  treated  me  so !  I'm  sure  it's 
not  my  fault.  If  I  were  at  all  to  blame — if — why,  the  fact 
that  your  husband  and  even  your  own  child  feel  kindly  toward 
me  shows  I'm  not.  It's  only  you.  You  are  so  cold  and  un- 
natural. I  feel  sometimes  that  I  haven't  got  any  child.  I'm 


BLIND    MICE  295 

all — alone — in  the  world "  and  Nannie  hid  her  face  in 

her  hands  and  sobbed  aloud. 

Lucy  went  on  laying  garments  in  the  trunk. 

"You've  got  Professor  Walsh,n  she  said. 

"Lucy!"  Nannie's  tone  was  eloquent  of  reproach.  "How 

cruel  of  you!  How  cruel !"  The  sobs  were  redoubled. 

"I  don't  know — that  I — would  ever  have — thought  of  marry- 
ing— again,  if  you  had  been — different,"  she  asserted  brokenly. 

"How  different?" 

"Oh,  I  know  it's  no  use,  Lucy,"  Nannie  spoke  reproachfully, 
drying  her  eyes.  "You  don't  know 'what  a  daughter  could 
mean  to  a  mother's  heart." 

"Yes,  I  do,"  affirmed  Lucy  softly,  pausing  in  her  work. 

"Well,  I  hope  if  you  ever  have  one,  she  won't  misunder- 
stand you  as  you  have  me.  I  know  how  much  the  sympathy 
of  my  own  dear  mother  meant  to  me" 

Lucy  began  to  lay  garments  in  the  trunk  again. 

"Is  there  anything  else?"  she  asked  after  a  moment. 

"No,  but  wait  a  minute.  Let's  make  up.  Let's  not  separate 
with  hard  feelings  like  this."  Nannie  left  the  pile  of  clothes 
she  was  sorting  and  came  toward  her  daughter.  "I  can't 
bear  to  have  you  hate  me,"  she  explained,  tears  in  her  eyes 
again. 

"I  don't  hate  you." 

"I'm  glad."  Nannie  bent  over  Lucy.  "I  shall  go  away  now 
feeling  different.  I'm  sure  by  the  next  time  I  visit  you  we  will 
have  come  to  understand  each  other  better." 

Lucy  hastily  scrambled  to  her  feet.  Murmuring  s6mething 
about  luncheon,  she  almost  ran  from  the  room  and  down  the 
stairs. 

About  two  o'clock  the  transfer  wagon  came  and  the  trunks 
were  loaded  into  it.  Mrs.  Merwent's  expression  became  wor- 
ried as  she  watched  the  departing  motor  truck. 

"I'm  sure  that  man  won't  take  them  to  the  right  station," 
she  prophesied  to  Lucy. 

"Yes,  he  will.  That's  the  largest  express  company  in  the 
city.  They'll  be  perfectly  safe." 

"The  man  didn't  look  honest  to  me,  Lucy."  But  Lucy  had 
left  the  hall. 


296  BLIND    MICE 

Nannie  was  still  at  the  front  door  when  John  opened  the 
gate. 

"I  came  early,"  he  remarked  in  an  undertone  as  he  greeted 
her. 

"Yes.  It's  our  last  evening,  John,"  answered  Nannie  sor- 
rowfully. "I've  just  been  telephoning  Miss  Powell  to  say 
good-bye.  She  says  she's  coming  to  the  station  in  the  morning 
to  see  me  off." 

"That's  nice,"  he  commented  indifferently. 

He  regarded  her  careful  toilette  and  the  white  rose  in  her 
belt  with  melancholy  approval. 

"I'm  all  in  over  this  thing,  Nannie,"  he  told  her,  lowering 
his  voice  confidentially.  His  face  evidenced  his  perturbation. 

"Dear  John !  I  know !"  She  squeezed  his  arm.  "Did  you 
tell  Mr.  Sprague  I  was  going?"  she  inquired  abruptly  a  little 
later. 

"Yes,"  answered  John. 

"What  did  he  say?" 

"He  said  that  you  had  made  quite  a  long  visit." 

"He  didn't  say  he  was  coming  to  the  station,  did  he?" 

"No,  he  didn't  say  anything  else  about  it." 

"Do  you  know,  John,  Mr.  Sprague  hasn't  even  treated  me 
with  common  ordinary  courtesy  since  I've  been  here  ?" 

"Don't  you  worry,  Nannie.  He'll  hear  from  me  about  it, 
all  right.  Jim  Sprague  has  changed.  He's  not  the  man  he 
used  to  be  at  all." 

"I  don't  think  he  ever  was  a  true  friend  to  you,  John." 

"Well,  I've  got  my  eyes  open  at  last,  Nannie — thanks  to 
you." 

"Oh,  John,  if  I  didn't  have  to  think  about  how  Lucy  is 
treating  you.  She — she's  not — her  morbidness  is  really  bad 
for  Jimmie,  too.  But  then  you  bear  everything  so  nobly.  You 
are — oh,  I  don't  know  what  to  call  it!  If  all  men  had  your 
patience  and  forbearance  this  world  would  be  a  very  different 
place  for  some  of  us.  /  appreciate  it  for  her  if  she  don't 
for  herself."  There  was  a  catch  in  Nannie's  voice. 

"You've  had  nothing  from  me  you  don't  deserve,  Nannie." 
John  did  not  look  at  her  as  he  spoke. 

"I've  always  tried  to  help  you  and  study  your  interests, 


BLIND   MICE  297 

Johrt.  I  feel  so  grateful  to  you.  I'll  never  forget  how  kind 
and  good  you've  been  to  me.  You've  been  better  than  anyone 
else  in  the  world " 

"I  don't  see  how  anybody  could  help  being  good  to  you, 
Nannie." 

At  this  juncture  Lucy  appeared  on  the  stairs  with  Dimmie. 
Almost  simultaneously  Katy  thrust  her  head  through  the 
dining  room  doorway. 

"Dinnah's  ready,  Miss  Nannie.  Kin  I  put  it  on  de  table?" 
she  inquired. 

"Don't  ask  me,  Katy,"  said  Nannie  peevishly.  "Mrs. 
Winter  is  your  mistress.  You'll  have  to  ask  her." 

"Yes,  Katy,  you  may  serve  dinner,"  Lucy  put  in  quietly. 

Just  as  the  family  were  seating  themselves  there  was  a  clap 
of  thunder.  Katy  waddled  from  one  window  to  another,  low- 
ering the  sashes.  As  she  closed  the  last  a  flurry  of  rain  spat- 
tered on  the  glass. 

"Ugh !  Lucy,  I  must  say  your  Chicago  climate  is  awful," 
remarked  Mrs.  Merwent.  "I  wouldn't  live  here  for  any  con- 
sideration on  earth.  I  don't  see  how  you  stand  it.  I  can't 
understand  why  so  many  people  stay  here  when  there  are  other 
places  fit  to  live  in." 

"Lots  of  them  can't  help  themselves." 

"Well,  at  least  I  should  think  that  you'd  want  to  live  in  a 
little  more  accessible  part  of  town.  It's  practically  impossible 
to  get  down  to  the  shopping  district  unless  the  weather  hap- 
pens to  be  good." 

"We  can't  afford  to  live  anywhere  closer  in." 

"Maybe  we  can  some  time,"  interposed  John.  "I've  often 
thought  we  ought  to  try  to  get  a  place  that  was  nearer  to  where 
respectable  people  live.  Jim  Sprague  is  the  one  who  wished 
this  proposition  on  us." 

"We  were  as  much  in  for  it  as  he  was,"  Lucy  stated  coldly. 

"May  be  you  were,"  retorted  John  sharply. 

"And  I  certainly  think,  Lucy,  that  you  have  the  most  un- 
friendly and  unattractive  set  of  neighbors.  That  Mrs.  Hamil- 
ton that  you  think  so  much  of,  for  instance.  She  has  absolutely 
no  taste  at  all.  I  wouldn't  be  seen  on  the  street  with  her.  Miss 
Powell  is  the  only  one  I  have  met  here  who  is  at  all  congenial." 


298  BLIND    MICE 

"Mrs.  Hamilton  is  a  good  woman  and  a  beautiful  mother." 
Lucy  defended  her  friend  warmly. 

"A  contrast  to  me,"  Nannie  suggested  bitterly. 

"I  wasn't  comparing  her  to  anybody,"  retorted  Lucy.  "I 
only  meant  /  wouldn't  be  ashamed  to  be  seen  with  her  any 
place." 

"Well,  anyway  it  was  meant  as  a  rebuke  for  what  I  said. 
You  can't  get  out  of  that,  Lucy." 

"I  wasn't  rebuking  anybody,"  contested  Lucy  wearily. 

"Then  you  shouldn't  make  that  kind  of  speeches,"  John 
argued  indignantly. 

"I  didn't  start  this,"  said  Lucy  rebelliously. 

"No,  but  you  never  miss  a  chance  to  give  me  a  dig,  no  mat- 
ter what  the  conversation  is  about,"  Nannie  persisted  accus- 
ingly. 

"It's  not  true!"    Lucy  flushed  angrily. 

"It  is  true,"  declared  John  remorselessly. 

Lucy's  eyes  filled  with  tears.  She  rose  from  the  table  and 
went  into  the  hall. 

"Now  what's  the  matter?"  Nannie  called  after  her. 

Without  replying,  Lucy  mounted  the  stairs. 

"Let  her  go,  Nannie,  if  she  wants  to  lose  her  temper  and 
pout  about  nothing  again.  I  might  as  well  get  used  to  this 
sort  of  thing  now  that  you're  leaving."  John  drummed  on 
the  table  with  his  knuckles. 

Nannie  took  his  hand. 

"Dear  John,"  she  whispered. 

"Don't  Mamma  want  Nannie  to  go?"  asked  Dimmie,  who 
was  staring  curiously  at  the  interchange  of  glances  in  which 
his  elders  were  indulging. 

"Oh,  hell,  Dimmie !  You  go  to  bed !"  John  exclaimed  ner- 
vously, rising  and  moving  to  the  window  where  he  remained 
with  his  back  turned. 

"You  are  sorry,  aren't  you,  Jimmie?"  Nannie's  voice  was 
full  of  emotion. 

"Uh  huh,  but  you're  goin'  to  take  me  with  you,"  Dimmie 
replied,  with  his  mouth  full.  He  swallowed  hastily. 

"Yes,  of  course,"  agreed  Mrs.  Merwent.  Then,  to  John, 
"He's  so  much  like  you,  John.  Oh,  John,  won't  it  be  awful 


BLIND    MICE  299 

if  Lucy '*  She  stopped,  looking  unspeakable  things.  "A 

morbid  atmosphere  reacts  so  on  a  child,"  she  explained. 

"Uncle  Jim  says  I'm  like  Mamma,"  observed  Dimmie,  tak- 
ing another  bite  of  bread  and  butter. 

"Of  course  he  would  say  so."  Nannie  nodded  and  raised 
her  brows  significantly. 

John  glowered  out  the  window  a  moment,  then  came  back  to 
his  place  at  the  table  in  silence. 

When  dinner  was  over,  Dimmie  followed  John  and  Nannie 
into  the  living  room. 

"Go  upstairs  to  bed  as  I  told  you,"  reiterated  John  to  the 
child. 

"But  I  want  to  stay,"  Dimmie  parleyed. 

"Do  as  I  say,"  commanded  his  father. 

The  little  boy  left  the  room,  his  chin  quivering  and  the 
tears  in  his  eyes  about  to  fall.  Mrs.  Merwent  ran  after  him. 

"Here,  kiss  Nannie,"  she  whispered.  "I'm  going  to  get  you 
some  more  candy  when  I  go  down  town  in  the  morning." 

Dimmie,  after  allowing  himself  to  be  kissed,  ascended  the 
stairs  reluctantly.  Nannie  went  back  to  John,  sighing  as  she 
seated  herself  near  him. 

"Oh,  John,"  she  sighed  regretfully,  "there  are  so  few  hours 
left!" 

He  smoked  in  moody  silence. 

"John."    She  laid  a  hand  on  his  knee. 

"Yes  ?"  He  turned  his  head  away  and  tried  vainly  to  con- 
trol his  shaking  voice. 

"You  will  think  of  me,  John?" 

"My  God,  Nannie,  don't  talk  rot !"  He  tossed  his  cigarette 
into  the  empty  fireplace. 

"And,  John — I'm  afraid  Lucy  wouldn't  understand  it — 
but  we  might — might  write  to  each  other  now  and  then." 
She  spoke  softly.  Her  hand  continued  to  rest  on  his  knee,  but 
her  face  was  averted.  John  did  not  reply  at  once  and  she 
added,  "I  might  send  the  letters  to  the  office."  Then,  after  a 
moment's  hesitation,  "If  it  wasn't  for  Mr.  Sprague." 

"Damn  Mr.  Sprague!"  John  rose  and  ran  his  fingers 
through  his  hair.  "I  could  arrange  that,  Nannie.  People  are 


800  BLIND   MICE 

so  confoundedly  evil  minded!  But  you  could  write  to  a  box 
number." 

"Oh,  John,  can  you  bear  it  without  me?  My  thoughts  will 
be  with  you  all  the  time,  John." 

Nannie  rose  too,  and  they  confronted  one  another. 

"Yes,  Nannie,  I  suppose  I  can  bear  it,"  he  answered  at  last. 
He  placed  one  hand  over  his  eyes.  "I  wish  there  wasn't  so 
confounded  much  light!"  he  supplemented  with  agitated  ir- 
relevance. 

Nannie's  response  was  to  go  to  the  switch  and  press  the 
button.  The  only  light  which  now  remained  in  the  living 
room  was  the  faint  glow  that  came  through  the  dining  room 
transom.  The  summer  rain  beat  against  the  window  panes. 

"Sit  here,  John,"  Nannie  suggested  softly,  and  the  two 
seated  themselves  on  the  sofa. 

They  remained  silent  for  a  long  time.  Katy,  on  her  way  to 
bed,  knocked  on  the  door  discreetly.  Mrs.  Merwent  made  a 
little  exclamation. 

"What  do  you  care  what  Katy  thinks?  She's  not  the  first 
person  who  has  seen  evil  in  innocent  things,"  growled  John, 
at  the  same  time  rising. 

"Fse  locked  up  all  de  bacfc.  You  all  wants  breakfas'  pow'ful 
soon,  don'  you,  Miss  Nannie?"  the  negress  inquired  in  the 
doorway,  not  accepting  Mrs.  Merwent's  hasty  invitation  to 
enter. 

"Yes,  Katy,  I  want  early  breakfast,"  Nannie  informed  her. 

"Good  night,  Miss  Nannie.    Good  night,  Mr.  Winter." 

"Good  night,"  responded  Mrs.  Merwent. 

John  made  no  response. 

It  was  after  midnight  when  Nannie  declared  that  she  must 
retire  in  order  to  rest  herself  for  her  journey.  John  switched 
on  the  light. 

"John "  she  hesitated. 

"Yes,  Nannie?" 

"There  is  nothing  in  the  world  so  unpleasant  to  me  as  ask- 
ing for  money,  but "  She  paused. 

"Yes,  Nannie?"  John  repeated,  his  tone  warm. 

Her  face  flushed  under  the  rouge. 

"Dear  boy!"  she  murmured  gratefully.    "You  see  I  didn't 


BLIND    MICE  301 

have  time  to  write  to  Professor  Walsh,  and  there  are  all  the 
expenses  of  the  journey,"  she  added  apologetically. 

John  took  out  his  pocket  book  with  trembling  fingers. 

"I  don't  see  where  he  comes  into  it,"  he  grumbled  unstead- 
ily, taking  out  some  money.  "Will  this  be  enough?"  Rather 
shamefacedly  he  held  up  two  bills. 

Mrs.  Merwent  glanced  at  the  denominations  as  she  re- 
ceived them. 

"Oh,  John,  you  oughtn't — ought  you  ?"  she  protested  weakly. 

"There  would  be  more  than  that  if  I  had  it  to  give !"  he  in- 
sisted. 

"When  I  get  to  Russellville Oh,  John !"  Nannie  crum- 
pled the  money  in  one  hand.  The  other  she  placed  on  his 
shoulder. 

He  met  her  eyes.  She  leaned  forward  with  a  hasty  move- 
ment and  kissed  his  cheek. 

"I  may  not  have  a  chance  tomorrow,"  she  whispered,  then, 
turning  quickly  into  the  hall,  went  up  the  steps. 

John  heard  her  door  close.  He  ascended  the  stairs  after  her 
very  slowly. 


XXXIII 

Nannie's  alarm  clock  roused  her  when  the  sky  was  yet  grey 
with  dawn,  but  the  details  of  her  toilette  were  so  exactingly 
executed  and  the  final  preparations  for  departure  so  numerous 
that  the  air  had  already  begun  to  lose  its  early  freshness  when 
she  emerged  from  her  room. 

"Lucy!"  she  called  to  her  daughter  in  a  flustered  manner. 
"Please  come  and  help  me  finish  packing  these  suit  cases." 

Lucy  obeyed. 

When  all  was  ready  Mrs.  Merwent  halted  in  front  of  her. 

"You  are  a  hard  woman,  Lucy.  Maybe  we'll  never  see  each 
other  again." 

"I  haven't  any  hard  feelings,"  Lucy  reasserted,  staring  over 
her  mother's  head. 

"Well,  let's  have  breakfast  then.  I  don't  want  to  be  late 
and  hurried  at  the  last.  It  makes  you  look  like  a  fright." 

The  two  descended  the  stairs. 

"I  can't  eat  in  such  a  rush,"  Mrs.  Merwent  complained  at: 
the  table.  "I  do  hope  there'll  be  a  good  diner  on  the  train." 
She  turned  to  John.  "When  does  the  suburban  leave,  John?" 

"Oh,  I've  ordered  a  machine  for  you,  Nannie.  It's  muddy 
from  the  rain  last  night  and  it  will  be  much  more  comfortable 
going  down." 

"Thank  you,  John.  You  are  always  thinking  of  other  peo- 
ple's comfort  and  welfare.  It  was  just  like  you  to  do  that." 

The  automobile  came  as  they  were  finishing  the  meal. 

Nannie  ran  into  the  kitchen. 

"Good-bye,  Katy,"  she  said. 

"Good-bye,  Miss  Nannie.  I  hopes  you  all  has  a  fine  trip," 
Katy  responded,  smiling  her  widest. 

"I'm  going  to  carry  down  your  grips,"  declared  John.  And 
he  and  Mrs.  Merwent  mounted  the  stairs  together. 

"The  last  time!"  she  breathed. 

302 


BLIND   MICE  303 

As  they  turned  to  quit  her  room  she  stared  around  her. 

"I'm  so  sorry  to  leave  it,"  she  murmured,  her  eyes  dim. 

John  bit  his  lips. 

Nannie  removed  the  rosebud  which  she  had  pinned  to  her 
travelling  suit. 

"Wear  it  for  me,  John,"  she  sighed  as  she  thrust  it  into  the 
lapel  of  his  coat. 

He  picked  up  the  satchel  and  suit  case  and  went  out. 

As  the  automobile  moved  off  Nannie  gazed  back  long  and 
solemnly  at  the  house.  With  the  exception  of  Dimmie,  who 
was  still  clamoring  to  go  on  the  train  with  his  grandmother, 
the  party  of  four  was  silent  during  the  ride. 

Once  inside  the  station  John  excused  himself. 

"Stay  here  a  minute  and  I'll  get  the  tickets,"  he  instructed 
the  women. 

"Buy  me  a  small  box  of  candy,  too,  John,"  Nannie  re- 
quested. 

"All  right,"  he  acceded. 

He  soon  returned  carrying  several  magazines,  a  basket  of 
fruit,  a  bunch  of  carnations,  and  the  box  of  chocolates  Nan- 
nie had  requested. 

During  his  absence  Miss  Powell  had  joined  Lucy  and  Nan- 
nie. She  greeted  him  affably  as  he  approached  the  little  group. 

"Good  morning.  You  look  like  a  regular  Santa  Claus,"  she 
smiled,  extending  her  hand  as  John  raised  his  hat.  "Where's 
Mr.  Sprague?  Didn't  he  come?" 

"Oh,  no,"  interrupted  Nannie.  "Mr.  Sprague  doesn't  put 
himself  out  for  everybody  in  the  family." 

John  handed  over  the  tickets,  the  flowers,  and  the  parcels. 

"How  lovely!"  Nannie  whispered,  burying  her  nose  in  the 
bouquet.  "Here,  Jimmie."  She  bestowed  the  box  of  sweet- 
meats on  the  child.  "Don't  forget  Nannie,  will  you,  darling?" 

"I  want  to  go  with  you,"  he  stated,  holding  tightly  to  the 
box. 

"Here,  Nannie,  you're  not  treating  yourself  fair,"  objected 
John.  "If  you  ladies  will  excuse  me  again?"  He  bowed  in- 
terrogatively toward  Miss  Powell. 

"Certainly,"  smiled  the  lady.  "You  aren't  going  to  allow 
Mrs.  Merwent  to  deny  herself,  are  you?" 


804  BLIND    MICE 

"No,"  said  John.  He  walked  across  the"  waiting  room  to  a 
fruit  stand  on  the  other  side.  When  he  came  back  he  pre- 
sented Nannie  with  a  box  of  bonbons  three  or  four  times  the 
size  of  the  package  she  had  given  Dimmie. 

"So  you  are  going  away,  Mrs.  Merwent?"  resumed  Miss 
Powell,  after  she  and  Nannie  had  expatiated  on  the  dimen- 
sions of  the  sweetmeat  box.  "I  hope  you've  had  a  pleasant 
visit.  It  has  been  so  nice  for  Mrs.  Winter  to  have  had  you 
with  her.  You'll  come  back  every  year,  I  hope.  When  you  re- 
turn we  must  see  more  of  each  other." 

Nannie  smiled  graciously. 

"Mother  is  going  to  be  married,"  announced  Lucy  suddenly. 

'Mrs.  Merwent  looked  up  quickly,  then  averted  her  face,  and 
finally  glanced  at  John.  His  air  indicated  that  he  was  furious. 

"Why,  Lucy!  Why — why,  you  mustn't  believe  everything 
my  daughter  says,  Miss  Powell."  Nannie  laughed  nervously. 

"O-oh,  but  I  do.  I've  never  had  occasion  to  doubt  Mrs. 
Winter's  veracity.  My  congratulations  to  the  happy  man!" 
and  Miss  Powell  kissed  Nannie.  "I  don't  blame  him.  You 
look  like  a  girl.  No  one  would  believe  that  you  were  Mrs. 
Winter's  mother,"  regarding  Lucy.  "Why  didn't  you  tell  me 
before?  Be  sure  you  send  me  an  invitation." 

"I'll  not  forget — if  it  ever  happens,"  Nannie  promised  rather 
shamefacedly.  She  kept  edging  toward  John  whose  eyes  were 
fixed  on  the  ground. 

A  uniformed  official  droned  something  unintelligible  in  a 
sing-song  voice. 

"That's  your  train,  Nannie,"  John  informed  her  abruptly. 
The  party  moved  toward  one  of  the  gates. 

"Good-bye,  Lucy,  I'm-  sorry  to  go,"  Nannie  murmured,  hug- 
ging and  kissing  Lucy.  "We  may  have  had  our  little  tiffs 
but  it  has  done  us  both  good.  By  the  time  I  come  back  we'll 
have  forgotten  all  about  them.  Be  sure  to  write  me  every 
week." 

"Good-bye,  Jimmie."     She  turned  to  her  grandson. 

"Dimmie,"  he  corrected,  adding,  "Ain't  I  goin'  ?" 

Nannie  bent  down  and  kissed  him. 

"I  wish  you  were,  darling,"  she  whispered. 

"I  want  to  go,"  wailed  Dimmie. 


BLIND   MICE  305 

"No,  you  can't  go  now,"  she  continued  in  the  same  whisper. 
"Your  Mamma  won't  let  you.  But  when  I  come  back  we'll 
ask  Papa." 

The  child  began  to  cry  lustily. 

"Good-bye,  Miss  Powell."  Nannie  kissed  the  newcomer 
again. 

"Now,  John."  Nannie  drew  him  slightly  apart  from  the 
others  and  raised  her  veil.  "I'm  going  to  kiss  you  after  all," 
she  said,  putting  her  arms  around  his  neck.  "Don't  forget 
me,  dear  John,"  she  murmured,  sobbing  a  little.  And  try  to 
get  along  with  Lucy,  no  matter  how  hard  it  is." 

John  thrust  a  slip  of  paper  into  her  hand. 

"You  can  write  me  there,  until  I  get  a  box  number,  Nan- 
nie," he  advised  brokenly. 

A  porter  took  her  bags  and  she  passed  through  the  gate. 
Before  entering  the  train  she  turned  and  waved  her  handker- 
chief. 

"Well,  I  must  go  to  the  office."  John  gulped,  blowing  his 
nose  and  wiping  his  eyes. 

"I'm  going  to  do  a  little  shopping.  Won't  you  come  along, 
Mrs.  Winter?"  Miss  Powell  invited  perfunctorily. 

"No,  thank  you."  Lucy  grasped  Dimmie's  hand.  "I  must 
take  this  little  boy  home." 

Half  an  hour  later,  as  John's  step  was  heard  in  the  cor- 
ridor, Jim,  who  was  sitting  at  his  table  with  his  face  buried  in 
his  hands,  straightened  himself  and  took  up  his  drawing  pen- 
cil. 

John  entered  without  any  greeting  and,  going  to  his  desk, 
began  to  examine  his  mail.  After  a  moment  he  paused  with 
an  air  of  abstraction,  and,  removing  from  his  button  hole  the 
flower  that  Nannie  had  given  him,  locked  it  in  a  convenient 
drawer  and  returned  the  key  to  his  pocket. 

Jim  worked  for  some  minutes  and  then  rose  from  his  chair. 

"I  believe  I'll  go  over  to  Benton  Harbor  and  see  about  that 
material  for  Wilson's  next  houses.  Layard's  say  that  it  would 
be  best  for  one  of  us  to  look  over  the  stone  before  cutting,  as 
we  can  save  considerable  on  the  specifications  by  taking  ad- 
vantage of  the  natural  rock  wherever  possible.  It's  certainly 


306  BLIND   MICE 

worth  while  spending  three  days  to  save  thirty  per  cent  on  the 
shaping  expenses." 

"I'll  go  over,"  offered  John  quickly. 

"Why,  there's  no  use  going  for  one  day.  I  don't  expect  to 
be  back  till — let's  see — today  is  Wednesday — Thursday — Fri- 
day— Saturday — at  least  not  till  Sunday  noon." 

"I'll  go,"  repeated  John.  "You  said  yesterday  that  you 
ought  to  keep  a  close  eye  on  that  concrete  work  in  the  foun- 
dations of  the  other  row  of  houses  we're  building  for  Wilson. 
That's  more  important  than  the  stone." 

"But  I  didn't  like  to  ask  you  to  be  away  from  your  family 
so  long,"  protested  Jim. 

"I'd  like  the  trip,"  explained  John.  "I'm  in  a  state  of  ner- 
vous fidgets,  and  a  change  would  do  me  good." 

"All  right.  Just  as  you  like,"  returned  Jim  with  a  curious 
expression. 

"I'll  go  home  for  lunch,  and  get  off  at  three  o'clock,"  John 
continued. 

"The  drawings  and  specifications  are  in  that  file  marked 
*W,'  indicated  Jim.  John  took  the  papers  and  went  out. 

He  was  soon  in  the  Rosedene  train. 

"I'm  going  across  the  lake  on  business  and  won't  be  back 
till  Sunday  or  Monday,"  he  announced  when  he  reached  home, 
coming  into  the  dining  room  where  Lucy  was  seated,  sewing. 

She  looked  startled,  but  her  only  remark  was,  "All  right, 
John." 

"I'll  pack  my  suit  case  now,"  he  told  her,  and  started  up- 
stairs. 

"Shall  I  have  luncheon  at  once  ?"  she  called  to  him. 

"No.  I  haven't  time.  I'll  get  something  on  the  boat  going 
across,"  he  answered  over  his  shoulder. 

As  he  passed  Nannie's  room  the  door  was  ajar  and  he  saw, 
that  the  windows  were  open  and  that  the  room  had  already 
been  scrubbed  and  the  bedding  hung  out  to  air. 

In  a  few  minutes  he  returned  to  the  lower  hall,  his  bag  in 
his  hand.  Lucy  was  still  seated  in  the  dining  room  but  she 
rose  when  she  heard  his  step. 

"Are  you  going,  John  ?"  she  asked,  coming  to  the  hall  door 
and  leaning  out.  He  hastened  his  pace. 


BLIND   MICE  307 

"Good-bye,"  he  called,  going  out  on  the  veranda  without 
looking  back. 

"Good-bye,  John." 

She  sat  down  to  her  sewing  again,  the  tears  slowly  chasing 
each  other  down  her  cheeks. 

That  evening  when  dinner  was  served  Lucy  called  Dimmie 
and  began  the  meal. 

"Where's  Papa?"  he  inquired. 

"Papa's  gone  away  for  a  little  while,  Son." 

"Has  he  gone  where  Nannie  is?"  pursued  Dimmie  eagerly. 

"No — I  don't  think  so,"  said  Lucy  after  a  little  hesitation. 

When  Jim  left  the  office  for  the  day,  he  made  his  way  to  a 
restaurant  where  he  often  dined. 

"What  shall  I  bring  you,  Mr.  Sprague?"  questioned  the 
waiter  who  always  served  him. 

Jim  took  up  the  menu  listlessly. 

"The  fish  is  very  nice  tonight,"  suggested  the  man. 

"I  don't  want  any  fish!"  exclaimed  Jim  with  unwonted  ir- 
ritation. "I  don't  want  any  dinner,"  he  decided  abruptly, 
noticing  that  the  waiter  was  lingering  by  the  table.  "Bring  me 
a  large  cup  of  black  coffee." 

When  he  had  finished  his  coffee,  he  paid  his  bill  and  went 
out  to  the  street.  Here  he  boarded  a  surface  car  and  was 
soon  at  his  apartment  house.  Reaching  his  room,  he  put  on  a 
smoking  jacket  and  lighted  his  pipe.  He  shoved  his  hands 
into  the  pockets  of  his  jacket  and  began  slowly  pacing  up  and 
down  the  floor. 

"He'll  never  grade  that  stone  right,"  he  remarked  to  the 
bookcase,  pausing  in  his  walk  and  relighting  his  pipe  which 
had  gone  out. 

Suddenly  he  went  to  the  telephone  and  took  down  the  re- 
ceiver. 

"Give  me  Rosedene "    He  paused. 

"What  number  did  you  say  ?"  asked  the  operator. 

"Never  mind,  thank  you,"  he  responded,  hanging  up  the  re- 
ceiver again. 

Going  to  his  wardrobe  he  exchanged  the  smoking  jacket  for 
a  coat,  and,  taking  his  hat,  descended  in  the  elevator  to  the 


308  BLIND    MICE 

street.  It  was  after  nine  o'clock  when  he  found  himself  in 
front  of  a  familiar  station  for  suburban  trains. 

Entering  the  building  he  was  soon  seated  in  a  departing 
car.  He  alighted  at  Rosedene  and  walked  in  the  direction  of 
the  Winters'  house.  As  he  passed  it  he  gazed  fixedly  at  the 
darkened  upstairs  windows.  Half  a  block  further  on  he 
turned  back  and  repassed  the  house,  still  staring  at  the  dark- 
ened panes.  Then  he  continued  his  way  to  the  station  and 
from  there  returned  to  the  city. 

Lucy  was  lying  in  her  room.  She  wept  silently  with  Dim- 
mie  asleep  in  her  arms. 

After  breakfast  the  next  morning  Dimmie  began  to  search 
for  his  hat. 

"You  don't  need  to  go  to  kindergarten,  Son.  You  can  stay 
at  home  with  Mother  if  you  like,"  said  Lucy. 

"But  I  want  to  go,"  he  argued.  "There's  lots  of  little  boys 
and  girls  goes  and  the  teacher  is  dandy.  We  have  lots  of 
fun." 

"All  right,  Son.  You  can  go  if  you'd  rather,"  consented 
Lucy  sadly,  "but  there's  no  use  in  your  going  over  to  Mrs. 
Hamilton's  any  more  so  early.  You  can  go  from  here  when 
the  wagon  passes." 

"But  I  like  to  go  early,"  protested  Dimmie.  "Mrs.  Hamil- 
ton always  laughs  an'  Stella  an'  me  play  till  the  wagon  comes. 
It's  too  lonesome  here." 

Lucy  tied  his  little  cravat  and,  fixing  his  hat  on  properly, 
allowed  him  to  depart  without  further  words. 


XXXIV 

When  John  returned  on  Sunday  he  again  found  Lucy  seated 
in  the  dining  room  by  an  open  -window,  a  book  in  her  lap. 

"Hello!"  he  greeted,  pausing  in  the  doorway  and  setting 
down  his  suitcase. 

Lucy  looked  up. 

Going  over  to  her  chair,  he  bent  and  kissed  her  forehead 
lightly.  He  seemed  to  have  regained  some  of  his  former 
cheerful  spirits.  His  color  was  nearer  normal  and  his  eyes 
were  brighter. 

"I  think  we  ought  to  get  rid  of  Katy,  John,"  advised  Lucy 
that  evening  after  dinner.  "There  are  not  so  many  in  the 
family  now  and  it  will  save  money.  I  don't  really  need  her. 
I  can  do  the  work  without  any  difficulty." 

"I  don't  want  you  tied  up  here  at  home  all  the  time,"  he  re- 
plied. "You  need  a  girl." 

"But,  John,  a  servant  costs  so  much  and  I  don't  mind  the 
work  a  bit." 

"No.  We  can't  stay  shut  in  the  house  night  and  day.  We'll 
go  dotty." 

"All  right,  John.  Just  as  you  say."  Lucy  sighed  as  she 
spoke. 

"I'm  sleepy,"  said  Dimmie  yawning. 

"All  right,  Sonny,"  she  said.  "Kiss  Papa  good  night."  And 
Lucy  led  the  child  away. 

John  entered  the  living  room,  and,  seating  himself  at  the 
piano,  attempted  to  play  the  accompaniment  to  Ouvrez  tes 
yeux. 

When  Lucy  came  downstairs  again  after  putting  Dimmie  to 
bed,  John  rose. 

"Let's  walk  over  to  the  Hamiltons'  for  a  few  minutes,"  he 
suggested. 

"Why "  she  began,  and  hesitated,  adding  hastily.  "All 

309 


310  BLIND    MICE 

right,  John.  Let  me  get  a  scarf  from  my  room  and  speak  to 
Katy. 

In  her  room  she  scrutinized  her  face  in  the  mirror.  Tears 
rolled  down  her  pale  cheeks.  She  wiped  the  tears  viciously 
away,  and,  seizing  a  coarse  wash  cloth,  rubbed  her  cheeks 
fiercely  until  a  little  color  appeared  in  them. 

When  they  arrived  at  the  Hamiltons'  home  the  doctor  met 
them  at  the  door. 

"Come  in,"  he  invited  cordially.  "Mrs.  Hamilton  is  putting 
Stella  to  bed.  She'll  be  down  in  a  minute.  How  are  you  feel- 
ing by  this  time,  Mrs.  Winter?  You're  looking  better." 

"I'm  feeling  all  right,  thank  you,  Doctor." 

Doctor  Hamilton  pushed  forward  chairs  for  his  visitors  and 
they  seated  themselves. 

"Your  mother  went  away  yesterday,  didn't  she?"  he  con- 
tinued. "Is  she  coming  back  soon?" 

"Oh,  probably  not  till  next  summer,  anyway,"  put  in  John. 

"She's  been  gone  several  days.  She's  going  to  be  married 
soon,"  supplemented  Lucy. 

John  gave  her  a  quick  accusing  glance. 

"Indeed,"  commented  Doctor  Hamilton. 

Mrs.  Hamilton  appeared  in  the  doorway. 

"Come  on  into  the  study,  Mr.  Winter,  and  smoke  a  cigar. 
We'll  leave  the  ladies  to  talk  gossip,"  urged  the  Doctor,  rising. 

"You  mean  leave  the  ladies  in  order  to  talk  gossip."  Mrs. 
Hamilton  laughed  as  she  straightened  her  husband's  cravat. 

It  was  after  ten  o'clock  when  John  and  Lucy  reached  home. 

"Let's  go  to  a  show  tomorrow  night,"  he  proposed  as  he  un- 
locked the  front  door.  "I'll  get  the  tickets  when  I  go  down 
town. 

"All  right,  John,"  Lucy  acquiesced  without  demur. 

"We  ought  to  get  out  more  than  we've  been  in  the  habit  of 
doing,"  he  went  on.  "It's  a  good  thing  to  know  more  people. 
We  have  practically  no  friends  at  all." 

"I  don't "  Lucy  ventured.  'Then,  checking  herself,  "We 

have  a  few  good  friends,  John." 

"I  don't  know  who  they  are.  I  don't  count  Jim  Sprague  as 
a  friend  any  more,  and  Miss  Storms,  that  you  used  to  be  so 


BLIND   MICE  311 

crazy  about,  has  shown  herself  to  be  a  two-faced  cat.  The 
Hamiltons  are  all  right  in  their  way,  but " 

"I  don't  think  you  are  just  to  Miss  Storms,  John.    She " 

"Now,  see  here,  Lucy,"  John's  face  began  to  grow  red,  "if 
you  are  going  to  stick  up  for  that  woman  after  all  she's  done, 
we  might  as  well  understand  each  other  right  now.  I  simply 
won't  have  you " 

"Don't  be  angry,  John,"  pleaded  Lucy  humbly.  "I  won't  say 
any  more  about  her." 

"I  don't  want  you  to  have  any  more  to  do  with  her,  either," 
he  dictated  with  suppressed  vehemence. 

"All  right,  John,"  Lucy  submitted  again. 

The  following  Sunday  Mrs.  Hamilton  invited  John  and 
Lucy  to  tea. 

"I  suppose  we  might  as  well  accept,"  John  had  remarked 
when  Lucy  told  him  of  the  invitation.  "We've  no  place  else 
to  go." 

They  arrived  early.  The  summer  was  established  and  a 
crimson  sunset  ended  a  brilliant  day.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hamil- 
ton were  seated  on  the  porch  and  both  rose  as  their  visitors 
came  up  the  walk. 

"We  were  enjoying  the  view  over  our  park,"  Mrs.  Hamil- 
ton observed  facetiously,  nodding  toward  the  vacant  ground 
which  permitted  an  unobstructed  view  of  the  sky,  and  ex- 
tending her  hand  as  she  spoke. 

"Yes,  indeed.  There  are  worse  places  to  live  than  Rose- 
dene,"  declared  the  doctor,  pulling  forward  a  rocking  chair 
for  Lucy. 

"You  used  to  stay  at  home  so  closely,"  Mrs.  Hamilton  told 
her  guests  when  the  party  was  seated,  "but  now  you  seem  to 
go  out  'most  every  evening,  and  we  want  to  see  something  of 
you." 

"How  pretty!"  interrupted  Lucy  uneasily,  calling  their  at- 
tention to  the  thin  new  moon  as  it  rose  above  the  straggling 
houses. 

"I  suppose  you  are  missing  your  mother,"  Mrs.  Hamilton 
resumed  when  the  conversation  paused  again.  "It  was  so  long 
since  you  had  seen  her.  I  envied  you  having  her  with  you.  I 


312  BLIND   MICE 

haven't  seen  my  own  mother  for  over  two  years.  I  was  sur- 
prised when  the  doctor  told  me  Mrs.  Merwent  was  going  to 
be  married,  though  I  don't  know  why  I  should  have  been. 
She  is  certainly  a  wonderfully  well  preserved  woman.  I  sup- 
pose you  and  Mr.  Winter  will  go  to  the  wedding." 

"I  don't  think  so."  Lucy  glanced  at  John  and  Doctor 
Hamilton,  who  had  withdrawn  a  little  from  the  two  women 
and  were  smoking  together. 

"I  don't  care  much  for  the  Hamiltons,"  John  commented, 
as  he  and  Lucy  were  on  their  way  home.  "I  want  to  make 
friends  that  are  not  so  dull  and  commonplace.  Their  idea  of 
high-brow  art  goes  about  as  far  as  the  pictures  on  the  popular 
magazine  covers.  I  think  I'll  join  the  Craftsman's  Club. 
Mathews  of  Layard's  belongs  and  he's  offered  several  times 
to  put  my  name  up.  It  will  cost  fifty  dollars  a  year  dues.  A 
lot  of  artists  belong  and  it  would  be  a  good  place  to  spend  an 
evening  now  and  then." 

As  they  were  preparing  to  retire  John  returned  again  to  the 
subject  of  society. 

"I  think  we  ought  to  give  a  little  dinner,  Lucy,"  he  said. 
"We  have  been  several  places  and  we  ought  to  do  something 
to  pay  them  all  back.  Besides,  in  that  way  you  gradually  get 
a  larger  circle  of  acquaintances." 

"All  right,  John,"  agreed  Lucy,  "if  you  would  like  to — if 
you  think  we  can  afford  it.  I've  no  dinner  gown,  you  know." 

"Oh,  go  ahead  and  get  something.  We'll  make  up  the  list 
of  people  we  want  tomorrow  night,"  he  insisted. 

The  next  evening  at  dinner  he  burst  forth  in  a  sudden  im- 
patient tirade. 

"What's  the  matter  with  Katy,  Lucy?"  he  exclaimed. 
"Since  your  mother's  not  here  to  push  her  along  she  seems  to 
have  forgotten  how  to  cook!  This  is  certainly  what  I  call  a 
thin  dinner." 

"It  isn't  Katy,  John.  We  have  just  the  same  cooking  that 
we  used  to  have  before  Mother  came.  I  thought  better  to  cut 
down  our  expenses."  Lucy  colored  as  she  spoke,  but  looked 
steadfastly  at  him. 


BLIND   MICE  313 

"Well,  I'm  not  ready  to  starve  yet  to  save  a  penny,  even  if 
you  are !" 

After  the  meal  they  considered  the  list  of  invitations  for  the 
dinner. 

"Miss  Powell  we  want,  of  course,"  John  began.  "I'll  think 
of  a  man  for  her.  Oh,  yes !  There's  Mathews,  Layard's  head 
bookkeeper.  He's  a  bachelor.  Then  there's  the  Hamiltons. 
I  suppose  they'll  have  to  come.  Miss  Storms  we  don't  want — 

we  don't  know  many  people,  Lucy.  Let's  see There's  Miss 

Lyle,  and  Mrs.  Morris,  too.  They  came  to  the  tea  you  gave 
for  Nannie,  didn't  they?  We  must  invite  Mrs.  Morris's  hus- 
band, too.  I  know  him  slightly.  And  we  can  find  a  man  for 
Miss  Lyle.  Oh,  yes.  Jim  Sprague.  I'd  rather  not  invite  him, 
but  I'm  afraid  people  will  talk.  He  used  to  practically  live 
here.  I  guess  we  can't  get  out  of  it.  And  we  mustn't  leave 
out  Nora  Stimpson,  although  she's  seemed  to  forget  that  we 
are  alive  since  we  came  out  here.  But  she's  still  at  the  Art 
School.  I  saw  her  the  other  day  on  the  car.  She's  on  the 
faculty  now.  I'll  have  to  think  of  a  man  for  her.  Why,  it'll 
be  quite  a  little  dinner — just  about  the  right  size!" 

The  succeeding  morning  at  the  office,  John  handed  Jim  an 
envelope. 

"Lucy  is  giving  a  little  informal  dinner,"  he  explained. 

Jim  read  the  invitation  and  put  it  in  his  pocket. 

"I'm  afraid  I  can't  come,"  he  observed  after  a  moment's 
consideration.  "I  was  going  to  run  over  our  Layard's  ma- 
terials bills  with  Mathews  Wednesday  night." 

"Mr.  Mathews  is  coming,  too,"  stated  John  stiffly,  "so  he 
won't  be  able  to  work  Wednesday  night." 

"I  had  planned  to  see  Wilson  later  in  the  evening,"  pursued 
Jim,  flushing.  "He  thinks  he  may  want  still  another  row  of 
cottages  built  in  the  spring.  However,  I'll  see  and  let  you 
know  a  little  later."  And  Jim  left  the  office. 

He  took  a  car  that  passed  Miss  Storms'  apartment.  It 
was  a  warm  day. 

"I  hardly  expected  to  find  you  in,"  Jim  remarked  as  he 
greeted  her. 

She  smiled. 


314  BLIND   MICE 

"You  shouldn't  have  found  me,  but  the  heat  was  stronger 
than  my  good  resolutions." 

They  began  to  talk  earnestly. 

"Thank  you  for  coming,  Jim,"  she  told  him  after  a  short 
conversation.  He  had  risen  and  taken  his  hat.  "I'm  not  in- 
vited. In  fact  things  look  as  though  I  were  dumped.  I  don't 
know  all — but  you  go."  She  rose  and  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm. 
"Don't  lose  sight  of  that  dear  child,"  she  added  seriously. 

Jim  nodded  his  head. 

"You  might  call  me  up  before  the  evening  is  over,"  he  sug- 
gested. "Neither  one  of  them  will  answer  the  'phone  at  a  din- 
ner party.  It  will  give  me  a  chance  to  get  away  in  case  my 
welcome  is  worn  out." 

A  half  an  hour  later  he  entered  the  office. 

"I  think  I'll  be  able  to  come  after  all,"  he  said  to  John. 


XXXV 

The  day  before  the  dinner  Lucy  went  shopping  and  pur- 
chased a  ready-made  dinner  dress  and  some  rouge. 

"You're  looking  so  well,  dear  Mrs.  Winter,"  remarked  Miss 
Powell,  the  next  night  when  the  guests  were  arriving. 

Lucy's  gown  was  a  white  demi-toilette  and  her  hair  was 
dressed  high.  Her  cheeks  glowed  brightly. 

When  Jim  came  he  shook  hands  with  kindly  formality. 

"I'm  glad  to  see  you  looking  better,"  he  said  to  Lucy. 

"Thank  you,"  she  replied,  smiling. 

When  the  dinner  was  over  and  the  ladies  had  retired  to  the 
living  room,  Doctor  Hamilton,  who  had  moved  next  to  Jim, 
offered  him  a  cigar. 

"You're  getting  thin,  young  man,"  the  doctor  observed.  "I 
expect  you're  working  too  hard." 

Jim  took  the  cigar. 

"See  here,  Doctor,"  he  replied  in  a  joking  tone,  "you  can't 
get  a  new  patient  here.  I'm  feeling  as  fine  as  silk." 

"Well,  don't  work  too  hard."  Doctor  Hamilton  lighted  his 
own  cigar. 

Soon  the  hired  waiter  came  to  the  table. 

"A  telephone  message  for  Mr.  Sprague,"  he  announced. 

*'Now  you're  trying  to  make  me  jealous,"  laughed  the  doc- 
tor. "If  you  were  a  colleague  I'd  accuse  you  of  trying  to  make 
us  think  you  had  more  patients  than  I." 

Jim  rose  and  went  to  the  hall. 

"Hello!"  he  called,  taking  up  the  receiver.  "This  is  Mr. 
Sprague  speaking." 

"I've  called  you  up  as  you  asked,  Jim."  It  was  Miss 
Storms'  voice.  "Is  everything  all  right?" 

"I'll  be  there  in  about  half  an  hour,"  he  answered,  his  tone 
louder  than  necessary,  and  hung  up  the  receiver. 

"I'm  sorry  to  interrupt  such  a  pleasant  evening."  He  ap* 

315 


316  BLIND   MICE 

proached  the  table  and  addressed  John.  "I'm  afraid  I'll  have 
to  leave." 

"Excuse  me,"  apologized  John  to  the  others,  and  he  stepped 
to  the  living  room  door. 

"Lucy !"  he  motioned  to  her.  "Mr.  Sprague  is  called  away. 
He's  going." 

"I'm  so  sorry  you  couldn't  stay,"  she  declared,  extending 
her  hand. 

"I  too,"  responded  Jim,  "but  it  was  very  nice  of  you  to  let 
me  come." 

Taking  his  hat  and  coat  he  went  out  to  catch  the  train. 

"Excuse  me  a  minute."  Lucy  smiled  to  the  other  ladies.  "I 
must  run  up  and  see  if  my  baby  is  asleep." 

Once  in  her  room  she  sat  down  by  the  dressing  table  and 
cried  a  little,  her  face  hidden  in  her  hands.  Suddenly  she 
lifted  her  head. 

After  carefully  examining  her  eyes  in  the  mirror  she  put  a 
tiny  bit  more  rouge  on  her  cheeks,  patted  her  hair,  and  re- 
turned to  her  guests. 

When  the  male  visitors  joined  the  ladies,  John  seated  him- 
self by  Miss  Powell.  She  wore  an  old  gold  evening  gown 
that  displayed  her  handsome  shoulders,  and  she  turned  her 
dark  eyes  on  him. 

"I  hear  you  are  quite  an  artist,  Mr.  Winter,"  she  com- 
mented agreeably.  "Mrs.  Merwent  told  me  you  were  re- 
sponsible for  these  lovely  pictures."  She  nodded  toward  the 
water  colors  on  the  wall.  "I've  admired  them  so  much." 

"Well,  Miss  Powell,  'artist'  is  a  big  word,  but  I  can  say  that 
I  am  interested  in  art." 

"You  are  too  modest,  Mr.  Winter.  I  can't  call  myself  an 
artist,  certainly,  but  I  appreciate  good  work  when  I  see  it." 

"I  might  have  done  something,  but  it's  my  fate  to  design 
cheap  houses  instead  of  painting  great  pictures,  Miss  Powell. 
I  attended  the  Art  School  here  and  I  thought  of  going  to  Eu- 
rope afterwards,  but  I  married  and — well,  here  I  am." 

His  listener's  dark  eyes  were  sympathetic. 

"The  beauty  of  a  Corot,  or  an  Inness,"  he  continued,  "can- 
not fail  to  thrill  one,  even  if  he  is  bound  down  to  humdrum 
tasks.  I  have  always  held  that  it  is  the  artist's  business  to 


BLIND   MICE  317 

create  beauty — simply  and  purely.  There's  little  enough  of  it 
in  common  life." 

"That's  just  how  I  feel,  Mr.  Winter." 

"I  don't  approve  of  the  didactic  spirit  of  some  of  the  mod- 
ern schools,"  he  ended.  "For  me  art  must  be  purely  ideal- 
istic." 

John  met  Miss  Powell's  gaze  earnestly. 

Lucy,  who  was  talking  with  Mr.  Mathews  quite  near,  over- 
heard snatches  of  this  conversation,  and  from  time  to  time 
her  glance  sought  John  and  his  companion.  Miss  Powell 
noticed  her  preoccupation. 

"We're  talking  about  art,  Mrs.  Winter,"  she  volunteered  at 
length.  "Don't  you  adore  it?" 

"I'm  afraid  I'm  deficient  in  the  finer  feelings,  Miss  Powell," 
answered  Lucy  somewhat  waspishly,  and  turned  again  to  Mr. 
Mathews. 

Miss  Powell  looked  at  John  and  lifted  her  brows. 

"I  understand  and  sympathize  with  your  appreciation  of 
sentiment  and  beauty,  Mr.  Winter,"  she  resumed  in  her  low, 
rich  voice.  "Thank  you  for  telling  me  of  it." 

"We  must  talk  again  some  time,  Miss  Powell,"  declared  John 
with  feeling.  "It  was  so  good  of  you  to  come  this  evening. 
We  must  get  better  acquainted." 

"Thank  you.  I  think  so,  too,"  she  agreed  with  her  most 
brilliant  smile. 

When  the  little  party  broke  up  there  were  murmurs  of 
pleasure  from  the  guests. 

"I've  had  the  best  time.  I'm  coming  out  again  right  away," 
declared  Miss  Stimpson,  who  had  been  talking  with  John  all 
the  latter  part  of  the  evening. 

"Do,"  he  smiled.    "We'll  love  to  have  you." 

"I'm  so  glad  to  see  you  and  Mr.  Winter  going  out  some  at 
last !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Morris  to  Lucy.  "It's  a  good  thing  to 
get  out  occasionally.  You  must  come  to  us  some  evening." 

The  next  morning  at  breakfast  John  was  in  good  spirits. 

"I  think  it  went  off  all  right,"  he  remarked  approvingly, 
"but  you  shouldn't  be  so  abrupt  to  people  as  you  were  to  Miss 
Powell.  You  must  cultivate  tact." 


318  BLIND    MICE 

"I  think  Miss  Powell's  nice,"  decided  Dimmie,  spoon  in  air. 

"You've  got  good  taste,  Son,"  commented  his  father,  open- 
ing the  morning  paper. 

When  John  and  Lucy  came  to  make  up  the  list  of  guests  for 
their  next  dinner,  Jim  was  excepted. 

"Jim  Sprague  acted  last  time  like  it  was  a  condescension  for 
him  to  come,  so  we'll  just  leave  him  off  altogether."  John 
frowned  as  he  spoke. 

Lucy  was  silent. 

"We'll  invite  Mathews,  of  course.  He's  a  fine  fellow.  I'm 
going  to  bring  him  out  some  evening  to  stay  over  night." 

"I  wish "  began  Lucy,  then  stopped.  She  stared  at 

John  and  as  she  did  so  she  seemed  to  shrink  up,  physically  as 
well  as  spiritually,  and  her  pupils  widened.  John  was  busy 
with  the  list  and  did  not  appear  to  notice. 

"I'll  bring  Mathews  out  some  night,"  he  said  again. 

"All  right,  John,"  she  replied  quite  naturally. 

Dimmie's  manner  was  perplexed. 

"Why  don't  Uncle  Jim  ever  come  any  more  ?"  he  demanded. 

Neither  of  his  parents  answered  him. 

Several  times  during  the  weeks  that  followed  the  query  was 
repeated. 

"Dimmie,  don't  ask  that  again!"  commanded  John  angrily 
on  one  occasion.  "He  doesn't  come  because  he  doesn't 
want  to." 

On  the  first  of  the  month  the  mail  brought  an  unsual  num- 
ber of  bills,  the  largest  of  which  was  that  of  the  caterer  from 
whom  Lucy  had  several  times  ordered  cakes  and  ices.  After 
•dinner,  while  John  was  still  seated  at  the  table,  she  went  to 
ithe  desk  in  the  living  room  and  took  them  out.  Coming  back 
into  the  dining  room,  she  laid  them  before  him  without  speak- 
ing. 

"Well  ?"    John  glanced  up  at  her  with  a  resentful  air. 

"John,  don't  you  think  I  ought  to  send  Katy  away?  We 
oughtn't  to  spend  so  much  money."  There  was  a  tremor  in 
Lucy's  voice. 

"See  here,  Lucy,  if  I'm  going  to  have  to  stand  for  curtain 
lectures  every  time  I'm  at  home,  I'm  going  out." 


BLIND   MICE  319 

"I'm  not  giving  curtain  lectures,  John." 
"Well,   I'm  going  out  anyway.     The  atmosphere  of  this 
house  is  enough  to  drive  a  man  to  anything." 
He  went  into  the  hall  and  seized  his  hat. 

Lucy  and  Dimmie  were  in  Lucy's  room  alone.    Lucy  bent; 
her  head  and  pressed  her  cheek  to  the  little  boy's  hair. 
"Oh,  Dimmie,  Dimmie,"  she  said. 
"You  can  tell  me  a  story,"  he  replied  consolingly. 

About  one  o'clock  John  came  in.  Lucy  had  retired,  but  she 
was  still  awake,  and  the  night  lamp  in  the  adjoining  room, 
where  Dimmie  slept,  was  burning. 

John's  step,  as  he  mounted  the  stairs,  was  halting.  He  en- 
tered the  room  unsteadily,  and  did  not  greet  Lucy  as  he 
opened  the  electric  switch.  When  he  turned  toward  her  and 
she  saw  his  flushed  cheeks  and  dull  bloodshot  eyes,  she  buried 
her  face  in  the  pillows. 

He  swore  over  his  refractory  collar  as  he  took  it  off,  but  re- 
frained from  addressing  her. 

Long  after  he  lay,  sleeping  heavily  on  the  pillow  beside  her, 
she  remained  with  wide  open  eyes,  staring  at  the  night  lamp. 


XXXVI 

It  was  more  than  a  month  after  Nannie's  departure  when 
Lucy  visited  the  office  again. 

For  the  trip  to  town,  she  selected  a  morning  when  John  had 
mentioned  that  Jim  was  going  out  of  the  city  for  several  days. 
She  entered  the  office  timidly.  John  was  working  at  an  in- 
terior decoration  scheme.  He  glanced  up  as  she  came  in  but 
did  not  trouble  himself  with  more  than  a  greeting.  She  went 
to  the  window  and  gazed  out  for  a  time,  then  sat  down  at 
Jim's  desk. 

Suddenly  Jim  himself  opened  the  door  and  came  briskly 
into  the  office. 

"I  decided  to  wait  till  next  week "  he  began.  Then, 

catching  sight  of  Lucy,  he  stopped. 

She  rose. 

The  even  red  color  flowed  up  over  his  face  and  he  stood 
undecided  an  instant.  Then  he  shpok  hands  formally. 

"Are  you  keeping  well  this  hot  weather  ?"  he  inquired  stiffly. 

"Very  well,  thank  you." 

"And  how  is  Dimmie?" 

"He's  well,  too,  thank  you,"  she  replied. 

"Excuse  me.  I  must  see  a  man  at  Layard's  before  lunch," 
he  explained  awkwardly,  going  out. 

He  did  not  return. 

"Jim  Sprague  is  growing  more  peculiar  every  day,"  John 
complained  to  Lucy,  as  the  sound  of  Jim's  steps  died  away. 
"He's  become  impossible  to  get  along  with,  even  in  business." 

Lucy  did  not  speak.  She  sat  down  near  John,  her  face 
averted. 

"I  was  going  to  tell  you  last  night,"  he  continued,  "but 
didn't.  He  has  offered  me  his  share  of  the  business — at  a  low 
price — in  fact  almost  nothing — and  on  liberal  terms :  time  pay- 
ments. He  has  an  offer  from  Layard's  and  wants  to  get  out. 

320 


BLIND    MICE  321 

It's  far  and  away  a  better  position  than  I  had  with  them. 
That  shows  what  kind  of  a  friend  he  was." 

Lucy  stared  at  the  papers  on  the  table  before  her. 

"I  think  you'd  better  buy  it,"  she  advised  at  last. 

"I  think  so  too,"  John  agreed.  "I  couldn't  do  it  alone  be- 
cause I'm  very  badly  in  debt  now "  Lucy  looked  up  at 

him  startled — "but  Mathews  thinks  he's  had  enough  of  book- 
keeping. He's  been  at  it  fifteen  years  now,  and  has  got  some- 
thing laid  by,  and  he'll  go  in  with  me.  His  experience  with 
Layard's  will  be  very  useful  to  us.  What  do  you  think?" 

Lucy  shivered  slightly. 

"I  think  that  will  be  the  best  scheme,"  she  declared  without 
hesitation. 

"All  right,"  concluded  John,  "I'll  begin  to  make  plans  that 
way,  then.  Now  you  sit  here  a  minute,  Lucy,  while  I  go 
across  the  hall  to  a  lawyer's  office  about  this  contract,  and 
then  we'll  go  and  get  lunch  together."  And  John  passed  into 
the  corridor. 

Lucy  rose  again  and,  walking  rather  unsteadily  to  Jim's 
desk,  laid  her  hands  softly  upon  it.  She  rested  so  for  a  min- 
ute. Then  she  went  slowly  to  the  window  opposite  the  street 
and  gazed  across  the  roofs  to  the  tall  building  in  which  Lay- 
ard's offices  were  situated. 


THE  END 


c 


000045640     o 


